


I'm No Savior

by lizardmm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardmm/pseuds/lizardmm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s getting easier coming to terms that Snow White and Prince Charming are the parents Emma has searched for her entire life, especially when she’s seen the Enchanted Forest firsthand. But upon her return to Storybrooke, something isn’t quite right with Emma – she came back wrong – and it will take an unlikely ally to help the Savior save herself. Season 2, set before "Cricket Game."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: I’ve been a SwanQueen fan from the very beginning of this maddening show, but this is my first attempt at a story. 

++++ 

Chapter 1

David held his beer stein in the air. “To Emma and Mary Margaret!”

All those gathered around the diner’s bar raised their respective beverages, ranging from beer mugs to soda bottles. Drinks clinked together and carbonated liquids sloshed over the glass wear rims.

Emma ducked her head at the toast and the gesture. She typically hated being the center of attention, but she was trying to let herself enjoy it. She hadn’t experienced this feeling of belonging or that anyone appreciated her existence in…well, forever. 

“God, I missed you two.” Ruby slipped her arm around Mary Margaret’s waist and pulled her tight against her hip. “Without you, I was swimming in testosterone around here.”

"Methinks the lady dost protest too much," David teased with a boyish grin. "Don't let her fool you. Red was reveling in being the Fairest of the Land with you both gone.”

Leroy snorted and swallowed down a mouthful of beer. "Well, I’m sure the Evil Queen didn’t mind it.”

At the reference, Emma’s gaze slid over to where the former Evil Queen sat. She had invited Regina to the Welcome Back party at Granny’s out of an obligation to Henry, but now that she was here, Emma was second guessing the invite. After a chilly reception by the other partygoers, Regina had not moved from her booth. 

The jovial conversation continued around Emma, but she couldn’t stop looking to Regina’s table. Tonight her raven-dark hair framed her face, and the ends flipped out just below the edge of a strong jaw line. Dark eyes, accentuated by smoky makeup, seemed to smolder under the unflattering lights of the diner. Her lips were impossibly perfect, painted a deep shade of red and quirked up at one corner in a perpetual smirk that only faltered when Henry was around. It might have been the alcohol starting to talk, but it occurred to Emma that Regina, not Snow White or any of the other Fairytale characters, was truly the Fairest in the Land.

"Could you be anymore obvious?" Ruby nudged a well-placed elbow into Emma’s ribs.

Emma snapped her eyes back to her group of friends. "What?"

"Don't play innocent,” Ruby said, her painted lips widening into a knowing smile. “You’ve been glaring holes into Regina’s head all night.”

“I haven’t been glaring,” Emma protested. She had been looking, sure, and maybe even admiring, but not without any kind of malice. At least she hadn’t thought so.

“Why is she even here?” Leroy hissed. 

“I invited her,” Emma said, her voice more sure than she felt. 

In truth, extending an invitation to Regina after all they’d been through had been a difficult decision. But Henry had wanted her there, and after a brief discussion with Dr. Hopper, Emma was convinced that Regina was trying to change. Now, she just needed everyone else in town to give her the opportunity to prove herself. Emma knew it wouldn’t be easy, however, when there was still so much ill will and resentment towards the former mayor, most of it justified.

“If you’re not glaring, then why don’t you go talk to her?” Ruby proposed. “Especially since you’re the one who invited her.”

“Regina?” Emma wondered aloud. She chanced a look back to the table. When dark, caramel-colored eyes met Emma’s, she immediately tore her glance away and pretended to be interested in the label on her beer bottle instead.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Did you get hit on the head in the Enchanted Forest or something?”

Mary Margaret cleared her throat. “As much as it pains me to say it, someone should go talk to her. She’s been sitting there by herself all night.”

“And she’s looked like a damn wounded puppy ever since she got here.” Ruby’s smile flipped upside down. “It’s almost enough to make me feel guilty for hating her.”

Emma chanced another glance in the direction of Regina’s table. The distance between their group and the table at which Regina sat wasn’t that much, and she was sure the other woman could overhear the topic of their conversation if she had wanted to.

“After all she’s done, Regina should feel fortunate that Emma was kind enough to invite her, and that we’ve spared her life,” David interjected. “We owe her no further kindness.”

Emma glanced one more time in Regina’s direction. While everyone else at the party, Henry excluded, had raided Granny’s alcohol, Regina drank coffee from a ceramic cup. When the mayor brought the mug to her lips, Emma’s eyes were drawn to her red, painted mouth. 

“Mary Margaret’s right,” Emma announced with some finality. “Someone should go talk to her.”

The pixie-haired brunette grinned broadly. “It’s so satisfying to hear my daughter say that her mother is right about something.” She hugged herself. “Parenting can be so rewarding.”

Emma’s lips twitched. Her time with Mary Margaret in the Enchanted Forest had made the realization that her friend and roommate was actually her mother settle a little easier in her mind, but she had a long way to go before she reflexively thought of Mary Margaret and David as her parents. 

“Well it’s not going to be me, sister,” Leroy protested. “She might say she’s changed and that she’s not going to use magic again, but I’d feel a lot better with my pickaxe in hand, just in case.”

Emma regarded her friends and family. They had been heroes in their own land – the Good Guys – but none of them had shown that goodness in this world when it came to Regina. She’d only convinced the angry mobs not to lynch the former mayor from her own apple tree when she’d reminded them of that. 

"I really hate being the Savior," Emma grounded out between grit teeth. She took one more pull from her beer bottle and gathered her courage. She’d faced a dragon with far less trepidation. She raked her fingers through long, wavy blonde hair. "What the hell do I even say to her?" she grumbled to no one in particular. 

Emma could feel the eyes of her friends and family on her back as she strode across the diner on uneasy legs. Regina seemed distracted by the coffee cup in front of her, or at least she pretended not to notice Emma’s approach.

“Good evening, Madame Mayor.” The title was no longer applicable, but it had become habit to refer to Regina in that way. Emma didn’t think she’d ever be able to call her Your Majesty, and she didn’t want to think of her as the Evil Queen from Henry’s book.

“Sheriff,” Regina returned without really acknowledging the blonde’s presence. 

“Mind if I join you?”

“If I said no, would it do any good?” There were barbs to Regina’s words, but the venom was palpably absent. 

Regina must be running on muscle memory too, Emma considered. She turned her ankles inward and rocked back on her heels, unwontedly uncomfortable. She hadn’t thought ahead beyond asking to join Regina at the table, and the mayor’s noncommittal response had her frozen with indecision.

Regina sighed and her rigid shoulders sagged beneath her suit jacket. “Please sit down, Miss Swan.”

Emma continued to hesitate despite the invitation until she felt Ruby’s hands on the tops of her shoulders, planting her in the space across from Regina.

“She said sit, Emma,” Ruby instructed.

Emma awkwardly stumbled into the booth, the denim of her jeans getting caught on the vinyl upholstery. 

A peculiar smile crossed Regina’s lips, but her eyes remained focused on her half-filled coffee cup. “It’s nice to know Miss Lucas is so well trained.”

Ruby muttered something under her breath, unintelligible to Emma’s ears.

Regina offered no response. She turned the ceramic cup around in her hands. Even though she had invited Emma to sit down, she still appeared displeased by the intrusion. 

Uncomfortable with Regina’s silent vigil, Emma plied herself with more alcohol. She swallowed down another mouthful of whatever beer Granny had provided that night. It tasted like a lager, not her favorite, but she didn’t care. It was wet, and it kept her tongue loosened.

“You should slow down.” Regina’s voice was an impossible low burn.

"Excuse me?"

Dark eyes finally looked up from the coffee cup. "If you keep inhaling your beer like that, dear, your body isn't going to thank you in the morning."

“Can I get you a drink?” Emma offered. “Something besides the coffee?”

“So my body can hate me in the morning as well?” Regina countered.

Emma still didn’t know what to do with the conversation. She knew how to banter and exchange heated threats with the former queen, but Regina looked small and vulnerable, and it didn’t sit well with her.

Another sigh escaped Regina’s lungs. “White wine, if you don’t mind.”

Happy to have a chore, Emma scrambled to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Ruby was wiping down the countertop when Emma approached. “How’s it going over there?” Having overheard Regina’s drink request, she pulled out a clean glass and filled it halfway from a bottle she’d found under the bar.

Emma leaned against the bar top and waited for Ruby to pour Regina’s drink. “Well the name calling has been minimal, and we’re not pulling each other’s hair. I’d call that progress.”

Ruby’s eyes danced with mirth. She slid the filled drink order across the top of the bar. “Don’t worry; the night’s still young,” she winked.

Emma returned to the table where Regina continued to sit by herself. She had hoped that someone else might drop by the mayor’s table in her absence, but the rest of the party had maintained their distance, even Henry. The latter observation brought a frown to Emma’s face. 

Motherhood. It was strange to her how quickly Henry had been able to call her “Mom” when Regina had held that position for a decade. Emma herself wasn’t able to do the same for Mary Margaret, but she had had twenty-eight years without her mother. Perhaps it would just take a little more time before she became comfortable with the title.

“Thank you.” Regina said cordially when Emma set the wine glass in front of her. She took an experimental sip. “Pinot grigio.”

“Is that okay?” Emma openly worried as she slid back across the booth seating. She had little experience with wine beyond knowing they came in different colors.

“It’s alcohol, Miss Swan.” Regina smiled mildly. She twisted the wine glass by its stem. “It’ll do the job.”

Emma retrieved her beer bottle and anxiously began shredding the paper label. “I should thank you,” she choked out.

Regina arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

“Saving me,” Emma said. “And Mary Margaret. Henry told me what happened at the well.”

Regina flicked the tip of her tongue against the faintly visible scar tissue at her lip. The action reminded Emma of a snake, coiling back before striking. “It’s not quite saving if my intent was to kill you in the first place.”

“But you changed your mind. You didn’t have to do that.” She had meant to have this conversation earlier, but since returning from the Enchanted Forest, she’d been gobbled up in the whirlwind of celebration and reuniting with her friends and family. 

“I would have lost Henry,” Regina said quietly into her wine glass. 

Emma glanced in the direction of their son who was happily chatting with Dr. Hopper while he munched on some sugary concoction she was sure Regina would never have approved of. 

“Besides, I’m sure it’s me who owes you my thanks.” Regina straightened in the booth seating, back becoming erect and rigid. “You saved me from that mob after the curse was broken. And my mother remains in the Enchanted Forest thanks to you.”

“I guess we’re even then.”

“I doubt we’ll ever be even, Miss Swan,” the mayor said cryptically. 

“Have you decided what you’ll do now?”

“Do?” Regina echoed. 

“Well, like, how you’ll spend your days?” Emma struggled.

Another eyebrow raised. “You mean now that I’m no longer the mayor of the town I created?”

Emma nodded.

Regina raked a shaky hand through her dark hair. "I haven't the slightest idea. How does one go about seeking redemption in a town she cannot escape?"

"One lasagna at a time?"

A small smile crept onto Regina's painted lips. "It did seem to go rather quickly, didn't it?" Emma could tell that Regina was privately pleased.

A sudden realization hit Emma with the force of a semi-truck. She was pulling this off. She was actually having a prolonged, civil conversation with Regina Mills. She couldn’t recall another moment in their brief, but turbulent history where a conversation had gone so well. 

She reached for her beer bottle, feeling emboldened and hopeful for the future. Her fingers brushed against the smooth glass, but she’d let her guard down. The heavy bottle tipped on its edge and knocked into Regina’s wine glass. And, like two dominos, the beer bottle and the wine glass toppled over. The contents of both drinks flooded the diner table to waterfall over its edge and onto Regina’s lap.

Emma froze and the scattered conversations around her seemed to come to a halting stop. She would have found the look of horror on Regina’s face mildly comical if she hadn’t been the one responsible for it. 

“Oh my God.” She grabbed fistfuls of napkins from their silver container, but Regina stood up before Emma could ply her flesh and clothes with tiny squares of paper.

“It’s fine,” Regina said stiffly. 

The diner’s occupants seemed to hold their collective breath as they waited for the Evil Queen’s reaction.

Emma sopped up as much of the spilt beverages as she could that now covered the table and the space where Regina had been sitting. She ably cleaned up the spilled alcohol, but an ugly mess of saturated napkins remained heaped on the table as evidence of her clumsiness. 

"I'm so sorry, Regina," Emma apologized.

Regina dismissed the blonde with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it, dear.“

"Can I get you another drink?" Emma offered sheepishly. 

“No. I should probably take this as a sign to leave.” A forced smile came to Regina’s lips. “I think my outfit would thank me for the early exit.” She retrieved her overcoat and pulled it on. 

“Regina, I am sorry,” Emma apologized again. “It was an accident, I swear.”

“Thank you for thinking to include me tonight,” Regina said with all the polished refinery of practiced royalty. Emma wondered just how badly Regina wanted to turn her into a bug for the offense.

Emma scrambled to her feet to see the woman out. “I’m glad you decided to come. I…I know it couldn’t have been easy showing up here.”

Regina hummed in thought.

Emma didn’t know what else to say, so she shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Have a nice night.”

“Thank you. I’ll certainly try.” Regina paused at the diner door. “Oh, and Miss Swan?”

“Yes?”

“Don't believe everything you read.”

Emma’s eyebrows knit together. “Huh?”

"Not all wicked witches can be vanquished with liquid." 

Emma watched the fallen queen exit out the diner’s front doors and into the placid night.

++++

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for the warm response to the first chapter! ~Eliza

Chapter 2

Emma slowed the patrol car to a crawl when she came upon a dark luxury vehicle parked on the shoulder of a deserted Storybrooke road. The headlights were on and the wipers swished back and forth. She frowned when she recognized the car. 

Since experiencing the Enchanted Forest, life had returned to normal – or as normal as one could expect when it turned out your mom and dad were Snow White and Prince Charming. The small Maine town had regained its stability until the next inevitable crisis. Having only lived in Storybrooke a relatively short time, Emma knew this peace couldn't last.

She pulled the police vehicle to the opposite side of the street and unfastened her seatbelt. "Of all the crumby nights," she grumbled to herself. 

She’s volunteered to take the night shift so David could have a date night with Mary Margaret. They’d have to figure out another arrangement for the future – maybe hire someone else to take the dreaded night shift so she could spend some real time with her family. The annoyance of another night shift had been exacerbated by an unforgiving squall that had settled over the seaside town. As day hours turned to night, the storm had only intensified. The lightning now came so frequently, it looked like a strobe light outside of the sheriff’s car windows.

Emma hopped out of the squad car and, burying her head into the lapel of her red leather jacket, she rushed over to the passenger side window of the black Mercedes. She knocked hard on the window. "What the hell are you doing out here?" she yelled through the closed glass pane.

The woman sitting inside her car pressed her lips together, but didn't respond.

Emma hadn't heard from Regina since the welcome home celebration at Granny's when she'd accidentally dumped the contents of her drink on the former mayor’s lap. Regina’s absence had been palpable around town. But instead of Storybrooke’s citizens celebrating the Evil Queen’s retreat, they had misgivings about Regina’s newfound hermitage, sure that her lack of presence didn’t bode well for the town. Emma wanted to believe the best about the woman who had raised her son, but she too had her misgivings.

"I'd suggest finding a different place to park,” Emma yelled through the window. “I don't trust that river if the rain keeps this up."

The passenger side window was rolled down a few inches. "I'm not parked here on purpose, Sheriff," Regina snapped. "I certainly know better than to park my car by a swollen river."

"Oh." Emma’s yellow hair was now plastered to her face. "Then what are you doing out here?" she yelled over the rain.

Regina leaned closer to the partially open window. “I was on my way home..." She trailed off and frowned. "Sheriff, get in the car."

"Why?"

"Because in case you haven't noticed, dear, we're in the middle of a monsoon."

Emma heard the power locks pop open. Normally she would have insisted that she was fine where she was, but the rain continued to fall down in thick, unending sheets. She yanked the passenger side door open and slid inside, slamming the door closed behind her.

"Mind the leather," Regina sniffed, no doubt immediately regretting inviting the Sheriff’s soggy body into her luxury vehicle. 

"So you were just about to tell me why on earth you're out here this late,” Emma noted, “and why you're parked on the side of the road."

"Yes. Well. I was finishing packing up my things from City Hall; I know Snow and her Prince want me to vacate my throne as quickly as possible,” Regina sniffed. Her fingertips brushed at a stubborn sweep of hair.

“And what does that have to do with you being out here?” 

“I lost track of time and it was dark by the time I left the office. I drove through what I thought was a mud puddle; it turned out to be a lake," Regina said sourly. "I didn't get very far until my engine died."

“My car works; I’ll drive you home.”

"You really expect me to get out of my car in this weather?" Regina said dully. She gripped the steering wheel tighter and continued to stare straight ahead. The inside of the windshield was starting to fog up.

"What was it you told me about not all wicked witches being destroyed by liquid? It's just rain, Regina. I don't imagine you'll melt.”

Regina continued to sit immobile in her vehicle, petulant like a pouting child.

Emma made an audibly frustrated noise. She became all arms and elbows as she tried to peel off her damp jacket. The task was made more difficult in the confines of the car.

"What are you doing?" Regina sounded annoyed and put-off.

Emma pushed open the passenger side door of Regina's Mercedes and launched herself back out into the rain. 

"Sheriff Swan!" Regina yelled crossly as the mist of the storm came through the open door.

Emma slammed the door shut and shuffled around the front of the vehicle as the unrelenting storm pelted her with a fresh assault of water. The weather had taken such a nasty turn; Emma could practically see her breath in the air. Hardly waterproof, she held her red leather jacket over the driver’s side door like a shield.

Through the windshield Emma saw Regina’s mouth moving in a silent curse. She reached into the backseat and grabbed her leather briefcase. She turned up the collar of her grey trench coat even though the extra inches of fabric would do little to protect her from the deluge. When Regina finally opened up the driver’s side door, Emma hopped backwards to get out of the door's trajectory before returning to her place, using her jacket as a makeshift umbrella.

Regina tucked her head deeper into her upturned jacket lapel and shuffled along in her high heels while Emma did her best to usher the mayor to the police car while keeping her jacket above them both. Regina got the majority of the now-soggy coat, and the left side of Emma’s body became saturated from the rain.

Regina jerked open the passenger side door of the Storybrooke squad car. Emma was thankful she hadn't reflexively locked the car when she'd gone to investigate what had happened to Regina's car. She could only imagine Regina’s annoyance if she’d found the door to be locked.

With Regina secured in the front seat, Emma scrambled in front of the car hood to reach the driver's side. She felt and imagined that she looked like a drowned rat by the time she was back behind the driver's wheel.

"Mind the leather," Emma snarked at the mildly damp and disheveled woman beside her, echoing Regina's earlier command.

Not seeing the humor, Regina failed to laugh. She fluffed at her wilted locks and ran a finger under each eye to check for runny mascara. 

Emma started up the car. It made a small whine in protest before the engine thankfully turned over. "Where am I taking you?"

"To my house, obviously." Regina rolled her eyes at what she interpreted to be the sheriff’s complete incompetency. 

Emma shifted the car out of park and began to drive in the direction of Regina’s manor. The wipers worked furiously and Emma leaned towards the windshield to better see the black road. The inside of the windshield had started to fog up and the defroster wasn’t blasting out any air. She wiped away at a patch of fog on the inside of the window. Luckily, they seemed to be the only car on the deserted road.

“Is this vehicle even safe to drive?” Regina asked tightly.

“Hey, at least the engine works,” Emma shot back, defensive about the squad car even though she preferred her yellow bug.

They eventually pulled up in front of the white columned home. Emma parked the squad car at the bottom of the cement walkway. "You really didn't have an umbrella in your car?" she lamented, looking out the car window. 

"No, Sheriff Swan. No umbrella. What about you?" 

"There's some rain ponchos in the emergency kit in the trunk."

"I'll risk the rain," came the disgruntled response. 

Regina had pushed open her door and was out in the rain before Emma could turn off the car. Her designer heels clacked on concrete as she stalked up the walkway that led to the front entrance.

+++++

Emma had always thought that Regina’s home was a little too grand for a town like Storybrooke, even for the town’s mayor. But when you went from a massive castle with turrets, she supposed that even this mansion was a downgrade.

The foyer was massive – a grand staircase that reminded her a little bit of Gone With the Wind, vaulted ceilings, and a crystal chandelier. The floor was white marble with an elaborate inlay design like a medallion directly beneath the overhead chandelier. Regardless of how many times she’d been inside, Emma still found herself gaping.

"Shoes."

Emma hopped on one foot as she struggled to pull off her knee-high leather boots. They were a tight fit even without being soaked through and clinging to her jeans. When she had succeeded, she carefully lined them up on a welcome mat next to a pair of rain boots.

Regina disappeared through the first door on the right. Emma didn't know if she should follow.

She peered up the imposing staircase that led to the second floor – a part of Regina’s home which she’d never seen. "Isn't this house a little big for just two people?" she called out. She wasn’t surprised that her voice practically echoed in the caverns of Regina’s home.

“Well now there's only one."

Emma turned her gaze away from the staircase, surprised to see Regina standing in the doorway from whence she’d originally entered. She leaned against the door jam.

Emma’s eyes traveled down the meticulously tailored suit, which had been hidden beneath Regina’s grey trench coat, and down to her stillettoed feet. The suit was magnificent, just like the woman who wore it. Suits had the potential to be boxy and masculine, clinging to the wrong body parts while hiding others that should have been on display. But Regina wore her clothes; they didn't wear her. Emma couldn’t help wondering if she chose undergarments with the same kind of care as she did the rest of her wardrobe.

The fitted black suit jacket cinched just so at her waistline. The dramatic lapel was ribbed with a thin white pinstripe. Under the open jacket was a white blouse that fit like a second skin. A single strand of white pearls lay against her collarbone. Emma hated button-up shirts on herself. Her body didn't seem to be proportioned the right way and the front buttons always left unsightly gaps that made her feel sloppy, unfinished, and exposed. But there were no gaps in Regina's shirt despite the way the material stretched across her chest.

The blouse was tucked into straight-legged dress pants, the black matching the color of her jacket. At her waist, a black leather belt of medium thickness with a shiny silver buckle in a dramatic geometric shape. Black stiletto heels with a vaguely reptilian texture spiked out of the appropriately lengthened pants. Everything about the outfit screamed money, professionalism, and refinement.

Emma felt underdressed in her signature Henley top, skinny jeans, and now without her knee-high brown leather boots. She had never cared much for fashion or the proper fit of clothes. Her wardrobe was classic and comfortable without looking sloppy, and she secretly liked the way her trim but muscled biceps looked in the long-sleeved cotton tops.

Emma scratched at the back of her neck. “How did you come up with all of this stuff, like all these houses and businesses, back when you were enacting the curse?” She felt suddenly shy standing in this imposing woman’s foyer. “I mean, I only spent a short time in the Enchanted Forest, but they didn’t have anything like this.”

"For the most part the details were unimportant. It was the thought that counted,” Regina noted with a tilt of her regal head. “I was to be wealthy and powerful. Everyone else… not.”

“You cut off Mary Margaret’s hair.”

A small smile fluttered onto Regina’s mouth. “Yes, well, I might have been specific about _that_ detail.”

Regina disappeared into the room once again, and this time, Emma followed.

A great fire burned in the fireplace of the black and white den. Emma crossed the room to inspect the fire, drawn to its heat like a moth to a flame. It was real, not one of those push-button gas fireplaces that flickered around fake wood and did little more than provide atmosphere. The heat of the flames felt good on her face.

Regina pulled two crystal tumblers from an ornate, built-in cabinet. Partitioned lead glass parted to display a collection of light pink Depression glass and other expensive-looking glass wear. Regina pulled a decanter of an amber liquid from a hutch. "Have a drink, Sheriff?"

Emma turned from the fire. "No. I shouldn't. I'm on duty."

“Neat or on the rocks?” Regina ignored the statement and poured the liquid into both glasses, two fingers of cider in each.

“Neither. I’ve got to drive,” Emma resisted. “And we all know what happens when I drink your cider and try to do that.”

Regina continued to disregard her words. “Personally, I’m a neat woman. I’ve always thought it a shame to water down good alcohol.” She handed Emma one of the glasses.

Despite her earlier refusal, Emma took the proffered glass. _I don’t have to drink it,_ she told herself. _I’ll just hold it to be polite._

Regina lifted her drink to her lips and watched the blonde over the rim of her glass. When she set her beverage back down on the hutch, her red lipstick remained on the rim.

"If you won’t have a drink, at least stay long enough for your clothes to dry. My conscience wouldn't be able to handle the guilt if you got sick on account of saving me."

Emma fingered her damp jacket, forgotten and limp in her arms.

“Hang your jacket by the fire, Sheriff,” Regina instructed, her voice bordering on the ridiculous. “That’s how these things work.”

Emma shrugged and slung her coat over the top of a high-backed easy chair.

“Now I see where Henry gets it from,” Regina sighed. “Sloppiness must be genetic.” She retrieved the jacket and hung it with more care so it could more efficiently dry. “How _is_ Henry?” Her voice faltered on the question.

“He’s good,” Emma said simply. “He’s at a sleepover party tonight.”

A sad smile formed on Regina’s lips. “That’s nice to hear. When he lived with me, he didn’t have too many close friends.”

The overhead lights flickered and then went out.

Regina sighed. “As if this night could get any worse.”

Emma clutched her drink tighter in her hands. “Where are you going?”

“Well, since I’m no longer using magic, I have to check on the fuse box – although I suspect that’s not the culprit.”

“Now _you_ sound like the sheriff,” Emma tried to joke.

Regina made a humming noise and walked out of the room, leaving Emma alone with her drink and the crackling fire.

The rain continued to pound against the grand windows of the den. Emma brushed a thick curtain out of the way to peer outside. Without the aid of the front porch lights, the night had swallowed up everything outside. She couldn’t even see her patrol car, but she hoped it was still parked outside and hadn’t floated away.

Regina returned with a lighted candle. “Well, it’s not the fuse box; I imagine the town is without power because of the storm.”

“I should probably get back to the station then.”

“Why? Are you an electrician?” Regina posed.

“No. But if someone needs to get a hold of me –“

“They’ll call your cell phone. The landline at the police station won’t be working with the power outage.”

“Oh. Right.”

Regina smiled mildly. “Sheriff, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were eager to leave me.”

“I’m on duty,” Emma excused herself. “I shouldn’t be wasting taxpayer money sitting here with you, having a cocktail.”

“How very noble.” Regina fished the crystal glass out of Emma’s cupped hands. She drained the contents of Emma’s untouched drink. “Thank you for your assistance tonight. I’m sorry I’ve kept you from doing your job.”

“You didn’t…” Emma ran her fingers though still damp blonde tendrils. She was the one feeling guilty now.

Regina briskly left the den, leaving Emma to scramble for her jacket and make it to the front entryway. She silently pulled her leather boots back on under the careful watch of the former queen.

The front door opened. “Have a nice night, Miss Swan,” Regina stated curtly. Her long, elegant fingers curled around the outer edge of the ornately carved front door. “Do stay safe.”

+++++

Emma turned off of Mifflin Street and back onto the main street. The rain had lightened up significantly and downtown was lit up like a Christmas tree. Upon further investigation she discovered a fallen tree branch had severed a power line. 

She called in the downed line to the electric company but a sleepy, disgruntled voice informed her that nothing would be able to be done about it for a few days. It didn’t help that no one was too eager to inconvenience themselves for the Evil Queen.

The return drive to Regina's house came with little thought until she was standing on Regina's front stoop. Was she just doing her job or was she looking for excuses to see the former mayor? Pushing those questions from her mind, Emma knocked on the door. She didn’t see a doorbell, but if it was powered by electricity, she realized it wouldn’t have worked anyway. She couldn’t have called Regina either, and she didn’t have her cell phone number. All of these realizations made her moderately more at ease about her decision to be standing at Regina's front door well after midnight.

Emma could just barely make out the sound of footsteps on the other side of the front door before it opened before her. Regina stood on the other side of the now open door. She had changed out of her suit in favor of something more comfortable. Emma’s eyes practically bulged at the expensive silk robe that barely reached the top of Regina’s kneecaps.

Regina pulled the sash of her robe tighter around her lithe waist. Her face was unreadable, but she looked unaffected by Emma's presence or that she was in her pajamas in front of the town's mayor. "Two house calls in one night? To what do I owe this surprise?"

Emma took a step backwards. “I just wanted to let you know that I found a downed power line in your neighborhood. Town has power, but you don’t. I called it in to the electric company, but they won’t get to it for a few days.”

Regina ran the tip of her tongue over still-painted lips. She’d changed out of her work clothes, but her makeup remained in place, like her armor or a mask. “Thank you.”

Emma shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and her hand curled around her key ring in one pocket and her cell phone in the other. “I, uh, I also took the liberty of calling Michael Tillman’s auto shop about your car. He's not open until the morning, obviously, but I left a voicemail telling him where to find your car so he can tow and fix it.”

At the admission, Regina’s carefully sculpted eyebrows rose on her unlined forehead. “You’re very thorough, aren’t you?”

“Just, uh, doing my job."

It was cold outside and despite her jacket, Emma visibly shivered. Her clothes were still damp from earlier. She wondered how Regina could stand the night chill in silk negligee. 

“Would you like to come in?”

"I really shouldn't." She was still technically on duty.

"At least let me thank you properly for this second trip out here. I promise it won’t be more cider."

Emma's eyes traveled the perimeter of the doorway with the same kind of practiced scrutiny, as she would have when on the hunt for someone who’d jumped their bail. The surrounding environments couldn't be more different, but the heightened anxiety was similar.

Regina stood in the open threshold, holding court and smirking. Emma’s gaze was once again drawn to the mayor’s waist when she tightened the robe's sash. What did two people do at this hour? What would a 'thank you' from Regina Mills look like?

"Come inside, Sheriff." Regina stepped back inside and back into the darkness. "I won't bite."

The inside of Regina's home looked different cloaked by the darkness of night and with the absence of electricity. Emma stood motionless in the grand foyer while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light and for her orientation to return. Thin lines of moonlight cast across the floor of the entryway, filtered through the narrow windows on either side of the solid front door.

"This way, Sheriff." Regina's voice came from the shadows. Emma felt the gentle swipe of fingers graze her lower back and circle around to her side as Regina strode past. That hand came to curl around Emma’s wrist and Regina tugged her further into her home.

With no electricity and the sounds of a sleeping town miles away, the house was silent. Regina was barefoot with no heels to clack against the wooden floorboards. The chunky heels of Emma’s own boots sounded hollow in the entranceway.

"Shoes?" Emma paused. It wasn't a comment about Regina's footwear, but rather a question about what to do with her own.

"I had no idea you'd be so trainable, Miss Swan." Emma could practically hear the amused smile in Regina's words. "You may leave them on," she permitted.

Emma allowed Regina to guide her down a long hallway, darker than the rest of the home as there were no windows. The hallway opened up to the open kitchen, massive in size with high, vaulted ceilings. The entire back wall seemed to be constructed of glass giving an unobstructed view of a private backyard illuminated by the pale yellow of the fat moon that hung in the midnight black sky. 

Regina dropped her wrist and walked around a large L-shaped island. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

"I can always eat." Emma had only been in the kitchen once before – to pick up a poisoned pastry. She stood awkwardly now without Regina's guidance. She shoved my hands into the tight front pockets of her jeans. The rain had stopped, but her jeans were still damp from earlier. 

Regina opened the double doors of a stainless steel refrigerator. The insides remained dark without the aid of the internal lighting. "I'm afraid I'm a little short on cheeseburgers and snack cakes. I don't normally keep that kind of food in my house."

"Do you have any vices, Madam Mayor?"

The refrigerator door closed and Regina made what Emma thought to be a predatory stare. "A few."

She moved to a drawer and, upon pulling it out, produced two spoons. She went to the refrigerator next, bent at the waist and pulled free the freezer drawer beneath. Emma knew she should have removed her stare from the way Regina's short robe crawled up her naked thighs, but she’d already exhibited an unparalleled amount of self-control for one night.

When Regina righted herself she held a cardboard cylinder container in one hand.

"Ice cream?" Emma wondered aloud when she saw the packaging.

Regina pushed a lock of dark hair out of her eyes. "Butter pecan." She set the container on the island and pried the top open. "If I'm to be without electricity for the next few days, I might as well take care of this so it doesn't go to waste."

It seemed to Emma that Regina was trying to justify the indulgence, but she kept her observation to myself.

Emma reached across the island and snagged one of the spoons. "No chocolate?"

Regina shrugged and dipped her spoon into the new container. "This is about as indulgent as I allow." Emma watched the creamy mixture at the end of Regina's spoon with unrivaled jealousy. The tip of the spoon disappeared between parted lips and re-emerged clean. "Food-wise."

Emma dug less delicately than her compatriot into the container. Butter pecan ice cream overflowed on her spoon and she shoved the utensil into her mouth before it could fall off.

Regina's steady gaze regarded Emma while she took another modest spoonful. "Such enthusiasm," she murmured.

Emma wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. She knew her table manners were lacking, but she had no pressing desire to eat ice cream straight out of the container with raised pinkies.

“How did you come up with the design for this house?”

Emma wasn't an expert at making small talk, but she found it a necessity around Regina. She was quickly learning that if she didn't control the conversation topic with this woman, Regina always found a way to make her uncomfortable. It wasn't purely physical. And there was a class element to be sure, but she mostly didn't want the Mayor asking too many questions about her own life. She was loath to hand over her past to be judged and studied.

“It’s loosely based off my grandparents’ home.” Regina swirled the tip of her spoon in the ice cream and dragged the caramel ribbon across its surface. "I have many fond memories of playing there as a child."

"In a place that looked like this? It feels more like a museum," Emma observed.

Regina stood up straight, no longer leaning into the island. "This house is a lot different when filled with family and love," she defended. "If it feels like a mausoleum now, then I'm the only one to blame."

"I didn't mean anything by it."

"No. I know you didn't." Regina stabbed her spoon into the ice cream as though planting a flag into the ground. "You should probably leave, Miss Swan. I know you have work to get back to."

Regina scooped up the barely touched ice cream. She tossed her spoon into the sink where it clattered noisily before throwing the entire ice cream container into the garbage.

"Regina, I really didn't mean to offend," Emma frowned. Guilt washed over her at how quickly Regina's manner had chilled. One minute they’d been sharing ice cream, and the next moment it was melting at the bottom of a garbage bag.

Regina didn't respond to Emma’s most recent plea. She walked out of the kitchen, leaving the other woman behind.

Feeling a little shell-shocked, Emma licked the last remnants of caramel and vanilla ice cream from the spoon before carefully setting it down on the kitchen island. She gathered her thoughts and emotions around her like battle armor and left the kitchen as well.

When she found Regina, she was standing at the front door, which was now open and awaiting Emma’s departure. Not needing to be asked to leave again, Emma stomped past the mayor, feeling a combination of embarrassment and indignation. She was thankful she didn't have to pull her boots back on as it would have only prolonged her visit.

"Miss Swan."

Emma hesitated in her dramatic exit at the name. When she turned to regard Regina, she found herself pinned by dark eyes.

"Thank you again for your assistance tonight."

Before Emma could muster an indifferent reply, soft lips were pressing against hers. Regina tasted faintly of sweetened caramel and roasted pecans. But just as quickly as Emma had come to the realization that Regina Mills was kissing her, those painted lips were gone and the front door was closing, shutting Emma outside on the front stoop.

Her fingertips went to her lips as she walked backwards and stumbled on one of the concrete steps. She looked up at the dark manor and licked at her lips, still feeling and tasting Regina on them.

+++++

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Emma quietly let herself into the loft apartment at the end of her shift.  She first slung her leather jacket over the back of a dining room chair, but changing her mind, she opened a closet and hung it up on its proper hanger.

She silently moved around the darkened space; the days were getting shorter and with it the sun set earlier and refused to peek above the horizon for extended periods of time. Everyone in the apartment was asleep and Emma’s own bed beckoned to her, but not as loudly as the porcelain claw-footed tub she knew resided in the single bathroom.

She tiptoed past Henry, who slept soundly on the couch in the living room.  He snored like a downshifting semi-truck. Luckily for Emma she was used to sleeping through similar loud noises after an adolescence of bouncing from one foster home to the next where having your own bedroom was a luxury that rarely existed.

She and Henry deserved their own space – a nice little two-bedroom apartment where they could begin anew. She knew her son loved sharing a space with his grandmother and grandfather, everyone united under one roof after so many years of estrangement, but she owed it to Henry to get him his own room like he’d had at Regina’s. After she’d broken the curse, and families had been reunited, real estate in Storybrooke had become more available. Houses were still hard to come by, but apartments for rent now littered the classified ads in the local newspaper.  She vowed to herself to start looking at apartment openings as soon as she’d bathed and gotten a few hours sleep.

Emma shut herself away in the privacy of the bathroom. She twisted her long, blonde waves into a sloppy bun high on her head and stripped out of dark jeans  cotton top, and mismatched undergarments. She inspected the lean, hard lines of her naked body in the full-length dressing mirror. A career as a bounty hunter had reshaped her body from a skinny, awkward teen to the finely muscled woman who stared back at her.  She observed the teenage gap between her thighs and settled her palms flat against the swimmer-v on her lower torso she had maintained despite not knowing how to swim. She twisted to the side to regard her profile.  Her hips were narrow, too boyish she thought, but small, upturned breasts that sat high on her chest in proportion to the rest of her taut body were evidence of her femininity.

She turned off the bathtub faucet when she deemed the water level high enough. First one foot and then the other, she gingerly sat down in water just a few degrees too hot.  Her body would acclimate and it wouldn't be long until the water became too cool.  She sat up in the tub, thighs splayed apart, water dripping from her fingertips. Humid air curled the hair at her temples and nape of her neck. She experimentally plugged up the silver faucet with her big toe, stemming the steady drip of the spigot.

Emma pushed damp tendrils that had worked their way free from her bun out of her eyes.  She skipped her fingers across the top of the bathwater. She ran a damp hand over a makeup free face.  The heat of the water penetrated down to her bones, alleviating the dull ache the damp chill of the overcast night. 

She let her thoughts wander to Regina and the brief, yet intimate, moment they’d shared in the entryway of the former mayor’s mansion.  She touched her fingertips to her lips and tried to remember how soft the woman with the rigid exterior had felt with her mouth pressed against her. She didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it and Regina’s motives for doing so.  Why on earth would she have kissed her? Regina was beautiful. Anyone with eyes could tell and she suspected that even those without sight would be able to innately tell the grace and poise of the fallen queen.

Emma’s fingertips started to prune and the water had gotten too cool for comfort. She emerged from the bathtub, feeling moderately refreshed.  After toweling her body dry, she pulled on a grey heather t-shirt and a pair of running shorts to sleep in.  Beyond the bathroom walls, the sun was just starting to creep past her airy white curtains, but the apartment remained silent and still.

Emma slipped between stiff bed sheets and curled onto her side. She shoved her hands beneath the lone down pillow and wished for a dreamless sleep. She knew it was too much to ask; sleep itself would have to suffice.

++++

"You're alive," Ruby observed as Emma walked through the front door of Granny’s diner.

Emma settled down stiffly on a vacant stool across from the red lipsticked waitress. After her bath she’d woken up to an empty apartment – Henry was probably at school and Mary Margaret and David were elsewhere. In their absence she’d decided to get a late breakfast.

The restaurant was empty except for Ruby and Granny, everyone else at their everyday jobs. It had amazed Emma how even after the curse had been broken and everyone remembered their Fairytale lives that they had so easily gone back to the jobs that Regina had designed for them in this world. But they’d been frozen in those lives for twenty-eight years, she remembered. Old habits were hard to shake.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about the other night.” After Regina’s hasty retreat from the celebration at Granny’s, Emma hadn’t felt much like celebrating anymore. She’d quietly collected Henry and they’d gone back to Mary Margaret’s loft.           

"Who bails on their own Welcome Home party?" Ruby clucked.

"I'm sorry," Emma apologized again.

"Why _did_ you leave?" Ruby pressed.

"I just needed to get out of there." It was a vague excuse, but her pride wouldn't let her admit the depth of her awkwardness.

The words seemed to pacify Ruby for the moment at least. “What’re you having?” she asked, slipping a laminated menu in front of Emma. “My treat.” She slid Emma’s wallet beside the menu.

“Wow. I really _did_ leave in a hurry, didn’t I?” Emma laughed, shaking her head.

“Did Regina…” Ruby hesitated. “Did she say something to upset you?”

“What? No,” Emma insisted. “Me leaving had nothing to do with Regina. I just…I needed to get out of there. Wanted to be in my own space, you know?”

“Speaking of space, are all four of you going to live in that loft?” Ruby frowned. “You should make Regina swap houses. She’s all by herself in that giant mansion while the rest of us have roommates and parents and grandparents under foot.”

Emma couldn’t tell if the conversation was still about her own family and their residential issues or Ruby’s own. “We’ll figure something out,” Emma assured her.

She was halfway into her breakfast when the bell of the diner rang with the entrance of another customer. She sat with her back facing the front entrance, so she didn't turn to see the newcomer.  She continued to slice up the western omelet in front of her.

"Coffee, please Miss Lucas," came a familiar, throaty rasp.  “To go.” The voice was closer than Emma would have expected, nearly vibrating off her right ear.

Emma slowly turned on her stool. Regina hovered so close that Emma’s knees nearly knocked into Regina when she did the about-face.

"Sheriff," Regina greeted with a subtle bob of the head.

"Regina," Emma returned.

Regina slipped fitted black leather gloves off her hands and set them on the diner counter. “I trust the rest of your night went well?”

“Yeah. It did, thanks.”

Regina looked perfect as usual, no signs of a late night visitor or a morning without modern conveniences due to the localized power outage. Without electricity she would have also been without hot water for a shower, but Emma didn't know how to go about asking those kinds of personal questions despite her burning curiosity. Had the former mayor used magic to get her hair to shine under the early afternoon sun? Or was it simply the product of good genes?

Regina leaned against the counter as she waited for her coffee order. "Do you eat every meal here?”

Emma lifted her shoulders helplessly. "Granny makes a great omelet," she defended herself and lack of culinary acumen.

"I wonder how it would compare to one of mine?" Regina mused.

Emma licked her lips. If she were braver, more brazen, she knew just the words to rattle the unflappable queen: _Is that an invitation?_ But she didn't take the bait and instead returned her attention to her plate of cooling food.

Regina made no reference to their kiss and Emma wasn’t about to bring up that uncomfortable topic. It must have been a fluke or a moment of vulnerability. Maybe she’d imagined it altogether. She licked at her lips at the memory; real or make believe, Regina had tasted delicious.

Ruby returned with Regina’s coffee and the former mayor left without another word. The door slammed and bell jingled with her exit.

Emma stabbed viciously at her eggs and side of hash browns.  The Savior was supposed to be brave. But all that woman had ever made her feel was afraid.

++++

After finishing breakfast at Granny’s, Emma climbed up the stairs to the loft she now shared with her son and her parents.  She fumbled only briefly with the apartment lock and swung open the door.  The door widened and was accompanied by a surprised gasp.  Mary Margaret and David were on the couch, flushed and disheveled.

Mary Margaret jerked away from her husband with such violence that she fell off the couch. She backside connected hard with the wooden floor.  Emma saw only enough to realize that Mary Margaret’s shirt was also on the floor.

Her hands flew to cover her eyes. "Holy shit!"

The sounds of fumbling filled her ears, quiet grunting and frenetic scurrying.

"My eyes! My eyes!" Emma complained.

"Knock much, Emma?" Mary Margaret complained.

She kept her hands fisted over her eyes. "Put a sock on the doorknob much, Mary Margaret?" she countered.

David’s voice was surprisingly composed. "You can look now."

"I don't want to," Emma stubbornly protested. Only reluctantly she removed her hands from her face.

Mary Margaret's shirt was back on, and her cheeks were tinted pink. David looked similarly embarrassed. She rallied, and scrambled to her feet.

“We brought breakfast.” Mary Margaret brushed at her slightly mussy hair.

A six pack of muffins sat untouched on the kitchen table next to a half-finished bottle of red wine – the breakfast of champions.

Emma held up her hands to stop her parents and their excuses and apologies. “We’re all adults here. Just don’t have sex on my bed and we’re cool.  Now if you don’t mind, I’m exhausted.”

Mary Margaret’s features scrunched. “But you just woke up a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, and I’m still tired.” Emma flopped onto her bed, not bothering to change out of the clothes she’d worn to breakfast.  

Since returning to Storybrooke, sleep had been evasive.  She’d slept better on the hard ground of the Enchanted Forest even knowing an ogre or a zombie could kill her while she slept.  Something was off, but she couldn’t quite place it.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the quiet shuffling of her _parents_ in the next room.

++++

_Regina’s feet dangled in the air, booted legs swinging helplessly. “You know I don’t like it when you use magic.”_

_A muted laugh bubbled up Cora’s throat. “And I don’t like insolence.  “I’ll stop using magic when you start being an obedient daughter.”_

_Regina made a noise in the back of her throat. “Why can’t I just be myself?”_

_“Oh, because you could be_ so _much more. If you’d just let me help you.”_

_“I don’t care about status…I just want to be –.” Regina gave a startled gasp as she rose even higher in the air. The horse bridle she had been holding turned traitor under her mother’s ministrations, now binding her tightly at her chest and waist._

_Cora’s right hand hovered in the air and the unforgiving leather tightened. “Please.” The word – a gasp – fell from Regina’s lips. “I’ll be good.” A sob caught in her throat._

_The leather straps fell away and Regina’s body slowly lowered to the ground.  When her feet finally touched solid earth again, she looked at her mother and then her father, who’d stood uselessly at Cora’s side throughout the entire affair._

_Cora’s painted mouth broadened. “Excellent. That’s all I wanted to hear.”_

_Regina looked at her mother in disbelief before turning on her heel and running away._

++++

A few hours later, Emma re-emerged from her bedroom.  She wasn’t ready to wake up, but she knew she couldn’t waste the entire day in bed, especially when sleep was bringing her no respite.  She’d had another dream that morning – another dream about Regina. 

This time she’d been riding a horse, jumping fences to the approval of an older man. The image of Regina’s face, carefree and smiling, as she conquered one hurdle after another, was unsettling.  In the short time she’d known the former mayor, Emma had never seen her look so youthful and without worry.

Even more unsettling, however, was the scene that had played out after, with Cora tormenting her daughter with magic. She’d seen Mayor Mills at her very worst, but if these dreams were any reflection of the woman who had tried to rip out her heart, Emma was more than thankful that they’d successfully left her behind in the Enchanted Forest.

Mary Margaret sat at the dining room table with a book open in front of her. She looked up and smiled when she saw Emma shuffle into the room. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” She raked her fingers through her pixie-cut hair, something Emma noticed she did when he was uncomfortable. “We didn’t plan on…it just kind of…happened.”

“Let me guess; you slipped and your mouth just fell on David’s, huh?”

A lopsided grin came to Mary Margaret’s features. “Yeah.”

“Where _is_ David?”

“You were sleeping pretty hard, so he went down to check things out at the police station. I stayed behind…”

“Because you didn’t want to end up jumping him in a jail cell?” Emma guessed.

Mary Margaret coughed delicately.

“I get it. You guys haven’t seen each other in a long time.” Emma drew in a deep breath. “Listen, I know we all just got back together again, but I was thinking that maybe Henry and I should get an apartment of our own.”

Mary Margaret’s features seemed to pale at the words.  Her already snowy white skin visibly blanched and the pink tint left her cheeks. “I promise what happened this morning won’t happen again.”

Emma frowned. “That’s a promise you can’t make, and one I would never ask you to make either. You guys deserve your happy ending.”

“But my happy ending includes you and Henry!” Mary Margaret protested.

“We wouldn’t be moving far away,” Emma insisted. “I mean, Storybrooke isn’t that big.”

Mary Margaret nodded somberly. “I understand.”

Emma shoved her hands into the front pockets of her tight jeans. “I, um, I think I’ll head down to the sheriff’s office and check in. Henry will still be at school for a few more hours.  Do you want to come along?”

Mary Margaret’s eyes danced as she quietly closed her book. “You mean you trust me and your father to be in the same room together?”

Emma grimaced as she grabbed for her jacket and keys. “Let’s not talk about that ever again, okay? I’ve been traumatized enough for one lifetime.”

++++

It was blissfully quiet in the sheriff’s office, something Emma knew not to take for granted. She sat with her parents around the office desk. 

“What about the Enchanted Forest?” David asked in a quiet, but serious tone.

“What about it?” Mary Margaret asked, shifting in her chair.

David looked down at his hands. “Are we ever going to go back?”

Mary Margaret’s face contorted in surprise from the question. “David, it’s not the same. You didn’t see. The Ogres are back. Cora’s there.”

“It’s our home,” he said simply.

“It’s not everyone’s home,” Emma interjected. She felt guilty the moment the words slipped out of her stubborn mouth.

Mary Margaret looked to Emma and then back to David. “We just got her back, David.  And I’m not going to lose her again.” Her voice wavered on the emotions behind her words.  She pushed a smile to her pink lips. “Why can’t we just catch our breath first before we go making any life-altering decisions?”

David nodded somberly. “But we have to talk about it sometime,” he insisted.

Mary Margaret laid her hand over her husband’s. “And we will. Let’s just…let’s just wait until things settle down a little bit.”

“If we ever want that to happen, Storybrooke will need new leadership,” David nodded in thought.

“Someone that’s not Regina,” Mary Margaret agreed. 

“Wait.” Emma’s brow furrowed, causing deep ridges to form on her forehead. “You’re not suggesting that one of you becomes the new mayor, are you?”

“I guess I just assumed that Mary Margaret and I would jointly rule the town as we did back in our land,” David admitted.

“You guys ran a kingdom, but that’s not how this world works,” Emma deliberated. “You can’t execute every criminal or cut off their hand.”

“And that’s why _you’re_ the Sheriff,” Mary Margaret agreed. “You’re from this world, so you can make sure that we follow this world’s rules.”

Emma rubbed her hand roughly over her face. “I’m a police officer, but I don’t know the first thing about running a small town. We need someone to look over the day-to-day operational stuff of a city.  There’s utilities to pay and city budgets to balance.” She sighed at the sudden realization. “We need Regina.”

“Absolutely not,” David blustered. “We’ll be just fine without her.”

“Listen, I know you guys are on the fence about her.”

“There _is_ no fence, Emma.” Mary Margaret frowned.

“But Regina loves this town.  Hell, she _created_ this town,” Emma pointed out.  “I can think of no other person better equipped to run it.”

The phone rang, interrupting their discussion. Emma plucked the phone from its cradle with a growing sense of dread. She liked it better when the phones were silent. “Sheriff’s office,” she barked into the phone.

“Good afternoon, Sheriff Swan.” Emma started at the familiar voice. She wondered if Regina’s ears had been ringing.

“Regina. Is everything okay?” She didn’t know why she immediately assumed the worst.

“Yes.  As fine as can be expected.” Regina hesitated on the other line. “I-I was wondering when I might get to see my… _our_ ….Henry.” She seemed to be struggling with her word choice.  “It’s been a week. I haven’t gone this long without seeing him since I adopted him.”

She imagined how hard it must have been for Regina to pick up the phone and make this call.  She tried not to think about Regina sitting in front of the phone, time and again reaching for the receiver, and only finally swallowing her pride. She tried not to think about the woman all by herself in her mansion with nothing to occupy her days. Everyone else in Storybrooke had a job. What was Regina going to do if not be the mayor? With the curse broken and memories restored would she ever have an accepted place in this town?

“I need to talk to him about it.” Emma chewed her lower lip. “It’s his decision, too, you know? Not just mine.”

“I understand.”

“Is there anything else you needed?” Emma asked. She couldn’t help but think about her dream and the helplessness she’d felt, suspended in air by Cora.

“No, Sheriff. That is all I require from you.”

+++

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to the SwanQueeners who made this couple this year's AfterEllen Femslash Madness OTP! Viva La SwanQueen! :)

**Chapter 4**

Emma bounded up the stairs of City Hall after picking up lunch for her and David from Granny’s.  A familiar voice stopped her mid-leap in the rotunda.

“Emma, I’m glad I ran into you.”

Emma slowed her steps to the police station. “Oh hey, Archie. What’s up?”

The tall man anxiously adjusted his glasses on his nose. “A little bird told me that there’s going to be an election for town mayor.”

“A little bird?” Emma echoed.  With the town now free of the curse, she realized Archie could literally have been referring to talking wildlife.

Archie smiled sheepishly. “Ruby.”

Emma nodded and returned the smile. “Well, your bird heard correct.  We’ve decided to have an open election for Storybrooke’s next mayor. It’ll probably happen within the next few weeks.”

Archie removed his glasses and wiped at the lenses with the bottom of his oversized sweater. “I, uh, well, I was thinking that I might like to run.”

Emma’s smile grew. “Really? I think that’s a _great_ idea.”

Archie ducked his head and looked embarrassed by the compliment. “I don’t have any real political experience, but I think as long as you’ve got a good heart and have everyone’s best intentions in mind, you can’t fail.”

“That sounds like excellent mayoral advice.” Emma clapped the man on the arm.  “You’re well on your way.”

The distinct echoing of high heels clicked in the rotunda.  Emma knew that Regina couldn’t be far behind. She heard Regina’s steps falter only slightly when she spotted Emma with the therapist.

Archie sucked in a deep breath as if readying himself. "Hello, Regina," he greeted.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Hopper," Regina returned placidly. Her eyes landed briefly on Emma. "Sheriff Swan."

"Madame Mayor,” Emma returned evenly.

Regina scoffed at the former job title and continued on her way to the single elevator in the center of the city building.  Unforgiving heels clicked down the corridor.

“I’ll let David and Mary Margaret know you’re interested in running,” Emma said absently. She found herself unwontedly staring at the regal woman as she waited for the lift. “And good luck with the election.”

Archie nodded his thanks and made his exit.

Instead of continuing downstairs to the police station, Emma strode in the direction of the fallen queen. "Where are you headed to?"

Regina stared straight ahead at the elevator that refused to arrive. "My old office.  I still have some personal affects to retrieve.” She flashed a pointed look in Emma’s direction. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to escort me, Sheriff Swan, to make sure I’m not up to something evil – like stealing staplers.”

"Don’t you think we’re beyond titles by this point? It’s okay if you call me Emma.”

Regina mashed a manicured finger into the elevator button again as if to hasten its arrival. "I'd rather not."

"Why don't you take the stairs?"

"Because, Miss Swan, my office is on the third floor and these are new shoes,” she said with an annoyed sigh. “I'd rather not be distracted all day by the blisters on my ankles."

Emma couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss. It was driving her mad that Regina had not said anything about it – given her an excuse as to why it had happened or even to confirm that it had happened at all. With the way she’d been sleeping, or rather _not_ really sleeping lately, she was having a hard time deciphering her dreams from reality.

"Have you been avoiding me?" she blurted out.

Regina arched an eyebrow at the outburst. "I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?"

Emma struggled for a witty retort, but before one came to mind, the elevator doors swished open. Regina stepped inside without another glance.

The elevator doors closed in front of the Sheriff’s face, whisking the brunette away. 

++++

_“And I thought we were done with all this nonsense.”_

_Regina hung suspended from the sky. Tree branches cinched around her waist and snaked around her extended arms.  “Hello, Mother.” The greeting was filled with lightly veiled malice, but also a kind of inevitability that she would be caught. “What evil have you conjured?”_

_“Not evil, darling,” Cora chuckled. “A barrier spell.” The branches loosened around Regina’s body and she tumbled from the air to land hard on the solid road beneath. “Designed to keep you where you belong.”_

_Regina gathered herself and pulled herself to her feet. She turned slowly to face her mother. A barely contained rage flickered behind caramel-shaded eyes.  Her painted lips twisted into a disgusted snarl._

_“I can’t leave?”_

_“Not alone – not without the King. We’ve been through this.” Cora’s voice lilted. “In two days you’ll be married. You’ll be Queen. After that you’re free to go…whenever you’re with him.”_

_The anger washed from Regina’s youthful features to be replaced with sorrow. “Mama, I don’t want to marry the King.” Her forehead lined with a burden too heavy for her young years. “I don’t want this life.”_

_Cora remained impassive, unmoved by her daughter’s emotions. “You’re just frightened of having all that power.”_

_“I don’t want power.” Her rasped voice lowered to a whisper. “I want to be free.”_

_Cora blinked slowly. “Power_ is _freedom.”_

Emma’s head jerked up from her desk. She hastily wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and looked around to see if anyone had noticed she’d fallen asleep in the office. 

Instead of the concerned look of David or some other Storybrooke constituent, she found herself alone.  “What the hell,” she mumbled.

++++

There was a knock on the door jam in the entrance of the police station.  Emma looked up from the computer printouts on the desk in front of her. Regina stood in the doorway, arms crossed and smirking.

"I had a feeling I'd find you here."

“Well, I am the Sheriff,” Emma defended with an eye-roll. 

"This isn't your shift is it?"  
  
"No.” Emma shook her head. “David's patrolling."  
  
"Then why are you here?"  
  
Emma felt a little like she was standing trial with all the rapid questions. "I have paperwork to catch up on."  
  
"Paperwork?"  
  
Regina stalked dangerously closer. Each stilettoed step sounded like a gunshot. She swept the stack of papers off of Emma’s desk.  
  
Emma scrambled to her feet and uselessly reached for the papers. "Please don't.”

Regina’s forehead furrowed as she looked over the documents. She swept a defiant raven lock out of her face. "This doesn't look like your typical small-town crime paperwork."  
  
“We don’t exactly live in a typical small town.” Emma gingerly eased the papers out of Regina’s hands. "It’s just some research.”

Regina rested her hand on a canted hip. "And what would you be doing looking up information on night terrors?”  
  
"It’s for a case I’m working on.”  
  
Regina arched an eyebrow, obviously not buying the flimsy excuse. “Defending the citizens of Storybrooke even while they sleep?”

Emma shoved the papers into a cabinet and out of sight. “You make me sound like Batman or something,” she laughed uncomfortably.

“Not enough tricks in your utility belt, I’m afraid.”

Emma worried her bottom lip. _Oh, I’d show you some tricks if given the chance_.

“Have you talked to Henry yet? About us spending time together?”

Emma’s face fell. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with work and getting back into the swing of things, and Henry and I are looking for a new place to live, and now David and Mary Margaret want me to help with the new mayoral election.” The excuses tumbled from her lips, one by one.

“A new place…” Regina worked the muscles in her throat. It was obvious to Emma that she was trying to swallow down a hateful retort.  “Have a nice night, Sheriff.”  She turned sharply on her red shiny heels and clacked her way out of the office.  
  
++++

Emma sat in the patrol car, watching the lights turn on and off in various rooms of the Mifflin Street mansion. She imagined the former mayor moving from one room to the next as she readied herself for bed. Watching Regina was quickly becoming one of her favorite pastimes.  She couldn’t avoid her in sleep, and she found herself inexplicably drawn to her in her waking hours.

She didn’t know why she’d been having dreams about Regina and her mother lately, but she suspected her run-in with Cora in the Enchanted Forest had something to do with it. Her Internet research had produced no helpful answers, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. This wasn’t the type of thing that Google could help her with.  She imagined the only person in town with the answers she sought was the woman who continued to have a starring role in her dreams.

Instead of knocking on Regina’s front door and inviting herself in for a glass of cider, Emma continued to sit in her patrol car outside of the palatial home like she was on a stakeout. But Regina had committed no crime as of late; not unless you counted the sinful way she wore dress pants, heels, and blouses. She wondered what Regina would be wearing if she were to knock on her front door at this hour. She herself cared little for fashion, but when it came to Regina she noticed every refined detail. Regina was impeccable, which naturally made Emma want to smudge her perfectly applied lipstick or rake her fingers through her carefully styled hair.  She wanted to rumple and crease dry-clean only button-up blouses and unfasten the hidden buttons of tailor-fitted pants to slip her fingers beneath the lacy undergarment she was sure to find there.

Lost in thought, Emma didn’t notice that the lights to the mansion had begun to burn a little brighter because of movement at the front of the house. A knock on the passenger side window of the patrol car had her jolting out of her inappropriate thoughts. 

Emma hastily rolled down the window. Regina leaned just barely through the open space. “Car problems, Sheriff?”

“No, I uh—.” 

The passenger side door opened and Emma was greeted with a brisk blast of night air as Regina slipped inside the car. “I hope you’re not stalking me.”

“S-stalking?” Emma stumbled on the word. “Of course not.”

“Then I wonder what could be the reason for this unexpected late-night visit. Keeping careful watch over the Evil Queen to make sure she’s not getting ready to enact her revenge?”

“I’m just patrolling,” Emma insisted.

“Always so noble and dedicated to your job,” Regina hummed. “I wonder if you’re as thorough with other things as you are with police work.” She wet her dark, stained lips. 

A ghost of a smile played at Regina’s red, painted mouth. “That’s a fancy necklace, Sheriff. Did you get that out of a cracker jack box?”

Emma self-consciously touched the badge that now hung around her neck instead of at her hip.  “I thought I’d try something different.”

Regina reached across the center consol and curled her fingers around the metal beaded chain.  She pulled the metal chain past Emma’s ears and hair, her fingers ghosting against the blonde’s skin as she did so. “But that’s not how _Heroes_ wear their badges.”

"No?" Emma felt frozen under the attentions of the brazen brunette.

Regina separated the badge from its leather pouch. "No, dear. Besides, if it’s not broken, why fix it?”

Emma held her breath when Regina's hand came to rest on her hip.  She tugged lightly on the heavy leather belt cinched around Emma’s waist as she slid the badge's back fastening between leather and dark denim. The badge rested snug and secure at Emma’s hipbone.

"Much better, I think," Regina practically purred in Emma’s ear.

Emma released an uneasy breath. “R-regina.” Her voice wavered on the name.

“Come on, Miss Swan,” Regina cooed.  She ran a long fingernail down the column of Emma’s pale throat, leaving a pink line in her wake. “Tell me this isn’t what you had in mind when you decided to park in front of my house.”

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” Emma weakly protested.

“And perhaps, my dear, that is precisely why we do this.”

Regina lifted her backside off the leather passenger seat.  Her hands slipped beneath her robe, causing the silk material to part, exposing miles of olive-toned thigh.  Emma’s eyes bulged and she jerked her head to stare purposefully forward rather than at the woman currently wiggling out of her underwear.

“I think there’s just enough room.”

Leather creaked and noised its protest, but Emma could not do the same as the Regina crawled over the center console to settle on her lap, one knee on either side of her thighs. 

Regina rested her arms on Emma’s shoulders and idly played with the wavy blonde curls at the nape of her neck. “Well, Sheriff?” Her tone was low, but taunting, challenging Emma to make the next move. 

If this was a game of seduction chicken, Emma was sure to lose. She swallowed hard. Of their own fruition, her eyes fell to her lap where Regina sat.  She found herself breathing heavier than usual as she drank in the parted thighs and the flimsy robe material, the only thing that separated her from what she suspected was a glorious view. 

“I’m starting to sense that voyeurism is your thing,” Regina husked.

There was little else they could do in the front seat of a squad car, especially with all the radio equipment crowding the center consol area. Emma didn’t think that Regina was the type for a quick fuck in the backseat of a police car, the backs of her naked thighs sticking to the leather seats and a seatbelt digging into her tailbone. Yet, here she was, Emma marveled, straddling her in the front seat, leaning against the steering wheel. 

Emma slipped a hand between their bodies.  She tugged at the sash around Regina’s slim waist, causing the sides of her robe to fall open. Beneath the robe she discovered a dark violet shift that matched the underwear Regina had so deftly cast off. Her hands betrayed the warning signs flashing inside her head as she cupped Regina’s breasts through the delicate material, feeling nipples immediately responding.

She let her fingers trail down the center of Regina’s chest, feeling the fine bones of her breastplate and then her ribcage beneath her fingers, down to the soft skin of a flat stomach. She dallied with the bottom hem of Regina’s lingerie top, indecisive.

Emma slid both hands beneath the soft material, letting it bunch up at her wrists as she inched the short sleep dress further up Regina’s toned thighs until she was rewarded with a view of her shaved folds.

Emma wet her bottom lip and circled her thumb against Regina’s clit briefly before sliding solidly into her with two fingers. Regina released a soft cry and her head fell back. Her back bumped into the steering wheel, pressing long enough to sound the horn.  They were isolated on the street, however, with no one to hear or draw attention to their activities.

Regina’s hands never strayed from the lapel of Emma’s jacket. She rode the sheriff’s fingers while Emma’s seatbelt remained fastened and her clothing undisturbed.

“Harder, Miss Swan,” Regina demanded.  “Make me feel it.”

Emma wrapped her free arm around Regina’s waist, only so happy to oblige. She watched in fascination of the view of her fingers piercing Regina’s swollen sex, illuminated only by the full moon. Every time Emma thrust into her, Regina’s body lurched backwards and her back knocked into the car horn.

Emma clumsily rubbed the pad of her thumb against Regina’s clit, bumping into her with each solid thrust. Regina’s breathing became more shallow and she rolled her hips as she bounced faster and harder against Emma’s fingers. It was all Emma could do to keep up with Regina’s frenetic pace.

Regina’s head fell forward so her lips were brushing against the blonde’s ear. It was the closest they’d come to kissing since the night Emma had given her a ride back to her home. Emma closed her eyes and focused on the texture of Regina’s soft lips against the shell of her ear and the ragged intake of air every time she bottomed out.

"So close." Regina’s words spurred her on. "So fucking close, Emma."

Emma gripped Regina tight around her torso so she could better control the pace and angle of her fingers. She curled her middle and index fingers and Regina gave a strangled gasp.

"Kiss me," Emma commanded. She curled her fingers a second time.

Regina’s hands left the lapel of Emma’s jacket and moved instead to cradle the blonde’s face. Emma gasped from the simple intimacy of the gesture. Regina’s mouth was soft and careful, a far cry from the bruising pace she demanded elsewhere.

Regina swabbed her tongue against Emma’s lower lip and along her straight teeth. Emma quietly groaned against her lipsticked mouth. The kiss was filled with such tender emotion that Emma nearly forgot what her right hand was supposed to be doing. She curled her fingers again and Regina’s body stiffened. Her dark eyes snapped shut and she held onto Emma’s ears and breathed a gasp into her open mouth.

"Cum for me, Regina," Emma coaxed. She corkscrewed her fingers inside her.

Emma held Regina close as her orgasm struck her like hundreds of tiny electric shocks. When her body finally sagged against her, Emma gently eased saturated fingers out of her sex and wrapped both arms around Regina’s waist.

Regina was still breathing hard when their foreheads pressed together.  Emma stroked her hands in the small of the former mayor’s back.

"Thank you, Sheriff,” Regina clipped in her most mayoral voice.

Emma frowned at the formality. What had happened to the breathy murmur of ‘Emma’ just moments before?

“You were very thorough as expected.”  Regina extricated herself from Emma’s lap to return to the passenger seat. She flipped the sun visor down and wiped at the smudged lipstick at the corners of her mouth and raked her fingers through slightly mussed black hair.

Emma blinked in wonder at the woman who had just come undone by her hands only seconds before as she calmly collected herself.

Regina remained silent and without another look in Emma’s direction, she opened the passenger side door and slid out into the night. 

Emma watched after her as she strode up the concrete walkway and pulled the sash of her robe more tightly around her waist. The front lights came on more brightly, sensing movement, and she disappeared inside the house without looking back. 

+++++

Emma’s head snapped up and she sucked in a deep, gasping breath.  A knocking at the passenger side window had woken her up. 

“Miss Swan?” Regina’s voice sounded muffled through the closed passenger side window of the Storybrooke police car. Her features were marked with visible annoyance. “Would you mind telling me why you’ve been parked in front of my house _fast asleep_?” She pulled tighter at the belt of her robe when a stiff wind fluttered the material of her silk robe.

Emma rolled down the window. “I, uh, s-s-sorry,” she stammered.

Regina’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Is everything okay? You look a little flushed." 

Emma turned the key in the ignition and the squad car roared to life. “Sorry. Gotta go.”

She pulled the vehicle out of park and drove away, leaving the former mayor standing on the curb.

+++

TBC

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“I don’t think we should just show up like this,” Henry worried as Emma parked the yellow bug in front of the Mifflin Street address. “We should have called ahead.”

“It’ll be fine, kid,” Emma breezed, although she had considered calling ahead as well. She didn’t want to give Regina an opportunity to say no, however.

She turned off the engine and they both exited the car.

Henry’s shorter legs struggled to meet his birth mother’s, stride for stride. “I just don’t know if we should surprise her like this. I know for a fact that she doesn’t like surprises.”

Emma flashed a brilliant smile in her son’s direction. “But it’s a good surprise, Hen.”

She knocked on the front door and waited. She hadn’t been to Regina’s house since the night she’d fallen asleep in her car and had experienced a more intimate encounter with the former mayor. She didn’t think she could look at Regina without blushing, but she’d dragged her feet long enough about letting Regina spend some time with her adopted son. She wasn’t going to let her own personal issues get in the way of that.

“I don’t think she’s home,” Henry said, sounding almost relieved. Emma glanced once in his direction. He looked up at the formidable, yet silent, mansion.

Regina’s vehicle was parked in the long circular driveway out front, so Emma knew she had to be around somewhere. “C’mon. We don’t give up that easily.”

She left the front stoop to continue her search for the home’s owner, Henry trailing behind.

When she made her way to the side yard, she heard the soft sounds of music filtering from the rear of the house. Turning another corner, they found Regina in the backyard, on her knees in the lawn, her head tilted down in concentration. In front of her were impressive rose bushes that she was diligently cutting back

Emma had no green thumb, but if she gardened, she imagined she’d wear old jeans and a t-shirt. Not so for Regina Mills. Her hair was down, but pulled back from her face with a headscarf and oversized sunglasses. It made her look a little like Jackie Kennedy Onassis. Her lips were painted a familiar red shade. Her sleeveless navy shell with the gold buttons looked straight out of a Banana Republic catalog. Emma couldn’t quite make out the shape or style of her pants since she was on her knees, but they certainly weren’t tattered blue jeans. Regina probably didn’t even own a pair of jeans.

_How can she look so perfect, even when she’s gardening?_ Emma wondered to herself. She was impossibly elegant. It was truly maddening.

Henry fidgeted beside the Savior. “Hey…Mom.”

Regina snapped to attention at the sound of the familiar voice. Her eyes were hidden by the oversized sunglasses, but Emma knew too well the combination of joy and sadness she would have seen had the sunglasses not been there.

“Henry!”

Regina scrambled to her feet and rushed over to the duo. She looked like she wanted to fall to her knees and wrap Henry up in her arms, but she stopped just short. Instead, she cleared her throat and seemed to gather her composure in front of the unexpected visitors. “What are you doing here?”

Emma shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I thought it was about time you two got to spend a little time together.”

“Supervised, I’m sure.” There was an icy bite to the former mayor’s tone that could not go unnoticed.

Emma hesitated. She’d fought with Mary Margaret that very morning about if she should drop off Henry or not. She didn’t worry about Henry’s safety – not with Regina – but she also knew this new arrangement was tenuous. Maybe supervised visits would be best for the moment. But she hadn’t exactly wanted to spend any more time with the woman who recently monopolized her dreams.

Saving Emma the trouble of explaining herself, Regina pointed to a shed in the back of her yard. “Emma, be a dear and grab that bag of mulch would you?”

Regina had used her first name to address her, not Sheriff or Miss Swan. Emma nodded dumbly and obeyed the request.

Near the back of Regina’s lawn was a small wooden storage shed painted red and white like a miniature barn. The doors were open and inside she found the typical things one might have in a shed: lawn mower, snow blower, weed whacker, and a wall of tools. She wondered if Regina paid someone to take care of her yard. She couldn’t imagine the woman snow-blowing her driveway in the dead of winter. The mental image of Regina, resplendent in high heels and a snowsuit, bordered on the ridiculous.

The bag of mulch wasn’t heavy, maybe forty pounds or so. It smelled like chocolate. She set it down near Regina who rewarded the effort with a soft, melting smile. Henry was on his knees beside her, helping to prune back a twisting vine of thorny roses. It must have been something he’d helped her with before as he wielded the pruning tool with familiarity.

“Anything else?”

Regina didn’t look away from her son and his careful pruning. “If you’d like to make yourself useful, you could put a layer of mulch over the roses’ root systems. They’ll need a good two or three inches to protect them over the winter.”

Happy to have something to do, Emma dutifully took to the task and trowelled shovelfuls of mulch into the flowerbeds. Between her efforts she glanced in Regina’s direction. The former mayor’s focus was trained on the rosebushes while she softly talked with Henry. Their heads were bent towards each other, nearly conspiratorial, and Emma felt guilty for intruding on this shared moment. It was easy to forget in situations like this that Regina was the Evil Queen and her son was a Charming.

“Mulch is done,” Emma announced.

“Are you two…” Regina looked flustered. “Are you staying a while?”

“I dunno. What’s for dinner?” Henry asked.

“Soup.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “The kind I like? The one with the meatballs?”

Regina nodded.

Henry’s head swiveled as if on a stick to appraise Emma. “Can we stay?” he practically pled. “You’ve got to try her soup. It’s the best.”

Emma couldn’t help but chuckle. She’d never seen anyone get so excited about soup before. “If it’s as good as her lasagna, I bet it is.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Miss Swan?”

Emma quirked an eyebrow. “I feel like this is a trick question.”

“How could that ever be construed as a trick question?” Regina let out with building annoyance.

“You ask me if I’d like to stay for dinner,” Emma clarified. “I say ‘yes,’ and you say, ‘too bad.’”

Regina shook her head at the overly cautious approach. “I can guarantee I’ll do no such thing. So?”

“So what?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Dinner, Miss Swan. Are you staying or not?”

Emma smiled serenely. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Henry, why don’t you go in and wash up,” Regina instructed. She pulled off her gardening gloves and held them in one hand. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

Henry hopped to his tennis-shoed feet and pressed the pruning tool he’d been using into Emma’s hands. Without another word to either mother, he bounded into the Mills manor with all the unbridled enthusiasm of a ten-year-old boy.

Emma brushed at her backside, wiping away phantom dirt. “You’re good with him. If I’d told him to go wash his hands, he’d put up a fight. He tries to get away with stuff with me.”

A gentle smile, but more hollow than Emma would have liked, found its way to Regina’s lips. “I’ve had a little more practice than you, Miss Swan. Parenting is trial by fire. When I first brought him home I had no idea what I was doing.”

Emma fiddled with the metal snips Henry had handed her. They looked dangerous, like they could sever a finger if she wasn’t careful. “Can I…do you still need help with the flowers?”

“I’ve got a little more pruning to do,” Regina nodded. “You can help, if you’d like.”

Emma looked helpless. “I don’t know the first thing about flowers.”

“But you seem to have a way with my apple tree,” Regina countered without malice.

Emma scratched at the back of her neck. “Yeah, uh, about that…”

Regina’s features were unreadable. “It’s in the past, Miss Swan. I’d prefer to keep it there.” She moved to stand beside Emma in front of a rosebush. “You’re going to start at the bottom of the plant and work your way up,” she instructed. “The goal is to trim away just enough to protect the plant over the winter months. Even though we’re cutting away at the plant, it will make it healthier and stronger.”

“Okay.”

“So find an area that you think you might want to cut away.”

Emma opened the snips and closed them around a branch. She applied minimal pressure, but stopped just short of cutting off the twig. “What if I cut off something that should have stayed?”

“Don’t worry. You can’t kill the plant by pruning too much.” A small smile twitched at the corners of Regina’s lipsticked mouth. “Just, you know, don’t cut it off entirely at the bottom.”

“Give me a little credit,” Emma snorted. The clippers felt foreign in her palm.

“Cut it at a 45 degree angle. And when you make the cut, be decisive about it. You want the cut to be sharp, not ragged.”

Emma held her breath and cut off a tiny branch. The green branch fell to the mulch. It wasn’t much, but she hadn’t been brave enough to cut away more. The more she clipped away, however, the more confident she became. Her efforts didn’t go unnoticed. Emma felt Regina hovering just behind her.

“Very nice. Just like that,” the other woman approved.

Emma turned her head to look at Regina; her caramel eyes danced, and Emma experienced a rush of adrenalin, privately pleased at the praise.

Her eyes went to Regina’s mouth and then lower to the opening of Regina’s shirt at her elegant throat. Catching herself and her wandering eyes, she spun back to face the roses. “So you have to this every year or something?” She hoped her blush wasn’t too obvious.

Regina nodded and returned to her own plant. “And in the spring to get rid of any winter damage, and again after they’ve bloomed to help them keep their shape.”

“Wow.” Emma continued to cut back the plant. “That seems like a lot of unnecessary work.”

“If anything is worth doing, it’s worth doing well,” Regina said with a small shrug. “I don’t mind a little sweat and blood if the results are to my liking.”

“Ouch.” Emma shook out her stinging hand.

Her jerky motions did not go unnoticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Your roses bit me,” Emma pouted.

“Let me see.”

The blonde shoved her finger into her mouth and sucked.

Regina’s features darkened. “Stop being such a child, Miss Swan. I need to see how serious your cut is.”

“It’s just a little prick,” Emma insisted.

Regina stood up. “Come on,” she sighed. “You need to wash it out. It could get infected.”

“It’s fine, Regina. I’ve had worse.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Rose thorn cuts can cause sporothrix schenckii. There’s a fungus on the thorns. Do you want to keep your fingers?”

She might have been imagining it, but Emma thought she witnessed Regina’s cheeks tint at the mention of her fingers. Normally she wouldn’t have let such an opportunity pass and she would have made a smart comment, but she was a little spooked by this rose-thorn-mushroom-disease. She liked all of her body parts where they were.

Regina didn’t bother waiting anymore. She strode through the lawn to the backdoor of her house and Emma silently followed.

Emma found Regina in a powder room on the first floor just large enough for a toilet and a sink. Regina pulled a small basket of first-aid supplies from the cabinet beneath the sink.

“Give me your hand,” she commanded.

“Which one?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “The one with the cut, Sheriff.”

“Oh. Right.”

Emma stuck out her right hand and tried not to flinch at the other woman’s touch. Regina wet a cotton swap in peroxide and dabbed at the cut on Emma's finger. The blonde released a quiet hiss as the stinging liquid cleaned out the wound.

Regina arched an eyebrow. "I would have hated to see you during childbirth."

"I guess I had a higher tolerance for pain back then."

Regina cut a square of gauze and wrapped it around Emma's cut finger. "Are you taking him with you when you leave after dinner?" She sounded tired and defeated, and it made Emma’s chest ache to hear the hurt in Regina's tone.

"I didn't really think that far ahead."

Regina wordlessly nodded. She unwrapped a Band-Aid and dressed the small wound with the gauze and sticky bandage. "All done."

Emma flexed her finger and inspected Regina's work. "Not bad."

Regina put the first-aid kit back in the cabinet under the sink. "I have some experience with cuts and skinned knees."

Emma bit the inside of her cheek. She'd never cleaned up Henry after a nasty fall. She'd never brushed the hair off his forehead when he was running a fever or soothed an upset stomach with ginger ale and saltines. That had been all Regina. She didn't know how to be a mother.

She grasped onto the edge of the pedestal sink and steadied herself with her uninjured hand. The room had become too warm and too small.

"Are you okay?"

Emma nodded. "Just a little lightheaded."

"That cut must have been worse than I thought."

Emma released her grip on the sink and righted herself. "I'll be fine. Just gotta walk it off."

+++++

Dinner was an Italian wedding meatball soup with red kale and crusts of still-warm sourdough bread. Emma had two bowls, not caring if Regina judged her for having an appetite. The soup was too good not to ask for seconds.

Emma devoured the food in front of her seemingly without taking a breath. Normally Regina would have recoiled at the elbows on the table and the use of a soupspoon as a shovel, but it actually brought her perverse pleasure to watch Emma so heartily and unabashedly enjoy the home cooked meal.

Regina watched Emma with amused, dark eyes. “If you’ve left anything in the Dutch oven, I can package it up so you’ll have leftovers,” she offered, taking a sip of her red wine.

Emma slowed the movement of her spoon. “It’s really good,” she said, defending her appetite.

“Thank you, dear.” Regina spared Emma additional embarrassment even though it would have been easy. Too easy. But she found she just didn’t have the energy.

Emma turned her attention to their shared son. "How about you, Henry? Is it as good as you remembered?"

The boy had his spoon shoved into his mouth. "Mmhmm," he confirmed around the utensil.

Emma flicked her eyes in Regina's direction expecting to find a stern look or rigid disapproval at Henry's poor table manners, but she found only patient adoration in warm, caramel irises.

"You know, Hen,” Emma started with slight hesitation, “you could stay the weekend, and Regina could cook more meals like this for you if you wanted."

Henry looked between the two women, unsure. "But I..."

Emma knew he didn't want to betray Mary Margaret or David by staying overnight. But he had to have missed Regina at least a little bit. "You've gotta admit, kid, it's better than poptarts."

Henry tore off a soft, flaky piece of homemade bread and shoved it in his mouth as if to agree.

Emma turned her attention back to Regina who now sat tense in her chair. She couldn't help but notice how Regina's fingers were curled around her spoon so tightly that her knuckles were white from the pressure. She looked like a woman who didn't want to let her heart believe.

"So what do you think? Henry stays the rest of the weekend, you make sure he gets to school on time Monday, and I'll pick him up afterwards?"

Regina swallowed and nodded. "That would be lovely. Thank you."

Emma used the cloth napkin to wipe her mouth. She glanced once at Henry who seemed preoccupied with blowing bubbles in his chocolate milk. Regina hadn’t commented on how his table manners had rapidly deteriorated now that he was living with his birth mother. She imagined Regina would let Henry get away with just about anything now, as long as she got to spend time with him. Between Regina and his doting grandparents, he was going to be the most spoiled child on the Eastern seaboard.

“Hey, kid. Don’t you have some homework or something?”

Henry frowned. “Yeah, but it’s only Saturday.”

“You shouldn’t sit on it until Sunday night though,” Emma noted.

Henry looked between his two mothers with a deeper frown. “Are you two gonna be okay if I leave?”

Regina quirked a small smile. “I promise to behave if Miss Swan does.”

Emma raised her right hand. “Scouts Honor.”

Henry grabbed his empty bowl and stood up. He continued to look warily between the two women.

“Henry, we’ll be fine,” Emma assured. “Now go do your homework. I’ll be up to say goodnight before I go,” she promised.

With a sharp nod, Henry left the dining room.

“As much as I appreciate you showing concern for Henry’s studies,” Regina started carefully, “I have a feeling you want to talk to me about something without him in earshot.”

Emma waited until she heard the distinct sound of feet pounding up the staircase to the second floor before she asked her question.“Has Cora contacted you?”

The dreams were coming more frequently now – and with more and more violence. She wasn’t ready to tell Regina about them, yet, but she couldn’t let this go any longer without being concerned.

“Of course it would be about her.” Regina’s mouth quirked into a tired frown, knowing her raw emotions had been momentarily exposed. She tugged the bandana from her head and ran a hand through her hair. “What makes you think she’s in Storybrooke? I thought you defeated her in the Enchanted Forest?”

“It’s just a feeling, I guess.”

“I haven’t spoken to my mother since my Wedding Day when I pushed her through the Looking Glass and she became the Queen of Hearts in Wonderland. If you don’t believe me though, Sheriff, I could always take a polygraph.”

"You're not on trial, Regina. I'm not here to pass judgment on you."

“If that’s the case, you’re the only one in this town.”

"Let them think what they want," Emma shrugged. "They're just bored with their own lives so they need to scrutinize others’ to bring a little excitement into an otherwise dull existence."

"The perks of small town life." Regina exhaled deeply. “I should have dropped us in the middle of New York City.”

"Why stay?"

"In Storybrooke?” Regina asked for clarification.

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s that little matter of the town border. And-and there’s Henry.” She frowned deeply. “I’m sure you would love to get me out of your hair though.”

Emma thought about the upcoming mayoral election and Regina’s future role in Storybrooke. "“Henry aside, as much as I hate to admit it, you were really good at your job...politics, being mayor, and all that. Your talents are being wasted in a small town like this.”

Regina scoffed and flipped her short, raven hair. "It's not like I need the money or the notoriety. I have them both here."

“But don’t you ever want, I don’t know… _more_?”

“Once,” Regina said darkly. “But it didn’t get me very far.”

Emma finished the remaining soup at the bottom of her bowl with a loud slurp. She looked up, guiltily, at the impolite noise. “Sorry.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Miss Swan.”

The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of an unseen clock.

Regina cleared her throat, culling Emma’s attention. “I want to thank you for allowing Henry to stay.” She toyed with the stem of her wine glass. "I've been putting fresh sheets on his bed everyday just in case."

Emma stared down into her now-empty soup bowl. God. Why couldn't this situation be easier? And why couldn't she bring herself to hate the Evil Queen? She was starting to understand, and she hated her conclusion.

+++

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Emma had no stomach for politics. So when it came time for the mayoral candidates to make their big speeches and appeal to the citizens of the town why they should vote for them, she only stuck around to make sure there would be enough fruit punch and baked goods for the after party before she slipped out. It had been just enough time to make sure Henry was going home with Mary Margaret and David and to notice the conspicuous absence of one Storybrooke resident.

She knocked on Regina's front door and shoved her hands into the pockets of her red leather jacket while she waited. Over the past week Emma found herself standing on Regina’s front stoop more times than since Emma had originally arrived in Storybooke. As much as Emma might want to avoid the dangerous brunette, she felt a growing sense of responsibility for the woman and her emotions. She had seen the worst of Regina, but also the best, because of Henry. Nothing could provoke the former mayor’s ire like losing her son to his birthmother, but nothing could soften her heart as much either.

The door swung open a few moments later with Regina on the other side. “Sheriff Swan.” She looked beyond the blonde and saw the yellow bug parked in front of her home. “Not on duty tonight?”

"You weren't at City Hall for the pre-election speeches."

Regina flashed her white, even teeth. "Don't tell me you missed me, dear."

Emma was quiet. _Yes. I missed you._

No one had mentioned Regina’s absence at City Hall when they’d been preparing for the town forum, but she could tell it had been on everyone’s mind. Would the disgraced mayor show up? In the absence of mayoral responsibilities, would she terrorize the town she had ruled over for the past 28 years? When it was clear that Regina would not be interrupting the speeches, she could practically see the anxiety lift from peoples’ faces and body language.

Regina interpreted Emma’s silence for something else. She looked away and raked fingers through dark, silken hair. "No one wanted me there. I thought I'd do everyone a favor and stay home tonight."

_I wanted you there._

The dual realization had Emma surging forward. She grabbed Regina by the lapel of her suit jacket and pressed her mouth against the goddamn perfection that was Regina Mill’s lips.

“Miss Swan!” Regina snarled, immediately recoiling backwards. “This is wholly inappropriate.”

Emma took another, aggressive step forward into the other woman’s personal bubble. "You kissed me first." It felt sophomoric to say aloud, but it was the truth. Or at least the truth the way she remembered it.

“I most certainly did not!” Regina protested. She clutched at the short pearl necklace that lay against her throat.

Emma stared deep into Regina's still-surprised eyes. "Your lips were soft, and you tasted like butter pecan ice cream. Tell me I didn't dream that, too." She had meant for her tone to be a challenge, defying Regina to deny the kiss had ever happened, but it came out all wrong. Even she could hear the frayed desperation in her voice.

Regina licked her lips. "Yes, Miss Swan,” she rasped. “I kissed you."

“I need to know why.”

Regina tore her eyes away from Emma’s intense stare. “You…you showed me kindness that night when my car broke down and my house had no electricity.” She released a rough breath. “I’m a little rusty when it comes to showing gratitude.”

Emma took another step forward so that she took up the space in the doorway. “That makes two of us.”

A tentative hand snaked out and touched the side of Regina’s face. The brunette’s eyes fluttered close and Emma could hear the barely audible sigh. Regina’s face was normally a mask – a disguise of foundation powders, crimson lipstick, and dramatic eyeliner and shadow – but with the careful contact, her emotions were laid bare for only Emma’s eyes. She became witness to the hurt and the pain that Regina religiously wore like a mantle.

She stepped Regina backwards, into the house, and shut the door behind them with the help of her booted foot. Regina made no comment about Emma’s footwear or possible scuffs she’d no doubt left on the painted door with the inelegant action.

Emma flicked the top button of Regina's blouse open and kissed at the bare skin that had been hidden there. Her mouth left the area wet and slightly flushed, but not enough to leave a mark that would show up the next day. Her intuition told her she'd be facing the former mayor’s wrath if she had done that.

She focused her attention on the next pearly white button and freed it from its strangling noose. More olive-toned skin appeared beneath the white button up. The beige bra was a letdown from some of the other undergarments she’d dreamed Regina would be wearing, but it could not detract from the pert flesh she knew resided beneath the conservative garment.

When she slid her hand beneath the soft cream blouse, Regina stopped her, wrapping her fingers around Emma’s wrist.

Emma’s eyes widened, fearing she’d overstepped her boundaries.

“Upstairs,” Regina murmured.

+++

Emma fell backwards onto the bed when the backs of her knees met the mattress edge. Regina placed her palm in the center of Emma’s chest and pushed her onto her back.

Regina shrugged out of her suit jacket and draped it over the edge of the mattress. She worked down the side zipper of an impossibly fitted skirt, and the garment fell down her legs like a magician unveiling a metamorphis illusion. She stepped out of the skirt and out of shiny black high heels.

From her place on the bed, Emma watched it all with mounting anticipation. But not satisfied being a passive onlooker, she inched herself to the edge of the bed and fumbled only briefly with the remaining buttons of the sleeveless shell that had hid beneath a fitted suit jacket.

With the buttons out of the way, Emma was afforded an eye-level view of Regina’s bra and the flat plane of her abdomen. She slid her hands beneath the open-hanging sleeveless shirt, avoiding the delectably rounded breasts the first pass, and up to smooth shoulders to completely remove the silk shell. Mindful that the shirt probably cost more than her monthly rent, she layered it on top of the Regina’s suit jacket despite the urge to ball it up and fling it across the room.

Her hands glided up the soft swell of a round ass to settle in the small of Regina’s back. Emma pulled her closer and Regina obliged. She pressed her face into the space between those vicariously contained breasts. Emma inhaled the delicate perfume and the unmistakable scent of Regina’s arousal. She smelled spicy like sandalwood and cinnamon.

Regina inched closer until she stood straddling Emma’s thighs between her own. Her knees sunk into the mattress as she settled more comfortably onto Emma’s lap.

Emma immediately palmed twin breasts, not much more than a handful that sat high and proud on Regina’s chest. She teased her nipples through the sheer material, coaxing stiff peaks to meet their potential.

She wrapped her arms around Regina’s waist, and in one fluid motion that exhibited her core strength, she lifted Regina from her lap and planted her back into the mattress.

Regina released a soft, surprised gasp – the first sound emitted since the invitation upstairs.

Emma couldn’t recall having enjoyed shedding a woman’s undergarments so much so as when she did it to Regina. Her fingers had toyed only momentarily with the elastic waistband before curling beneath. The lacy underwear felt delicate beneath her slightly shaking hands. She was going to see Regina Mills naked. They were going to have sex. It was a sobering thought. When Regina arched her delectable backside off the mattress, it was the only encouragement she had needed to slide the flimsy panties down the other woman’s jutting hipbones and down her long, long legs.

When Regina sat up in bed to unfasten her bra, Emma placed her hands on top of Regina’s. “Stop,” she instructed. Regina arched a questioning eyebrow. “I want to do it,” Emma clarified.

Emma could hear the slight intake of breath before Regina nodded her acquiescence. She reached behind Regina; her hands glided along smooth skin until she felt the bra clasp. She unfastened the garment so it was only held up by the shoulder straps. Emma scooted a little closer on the bed so she could kiss along the tops of Regina’s toned shoulders. Her steady hands slid the two straps down Regina’s shoulders and off her slender arms, until the bra fell away, rendering the other woman completely naked.

Regina let her head fall back, affording Emma better access to her neck and collarbone. Her mouth was magic. Regina’s nostrils flared, her breathing sounded labored, and yet Emma had barely touched her. “I’m feeling a little underdressed,” she murmured.

Emma, despite Regina’s taunts about her intellect, was not an obtuse girl; she didn’t need a second hint. She quickly tore off her own cotton shirt, eager fingers fumbling just a bit, and pulled off her jeans and underwear until she too was naked.

Emma breathed in the woman perched on her bed from her raven dark hair, slightly mussed and falling across her forehead, and admired the slender, taunt body that seemed to defy age and gravity. She took her time, kissing the olive skin of Regina’s naked breasts, rotating from one breast to the other. She took a pebbled nipple into her mouth and flicked at the sensitive numb with the tip of her tongue. She heard Regina’s quiet hiss.

"Don't play games with me, dear," she growled. "I always win."

"Maybe I don't mind losing this time," Emma countered.

Regina pressed her fingers against Emma’s breastplate. “Lay down.”

“You’re awfully big on giving me commands,” Emma observed with a wry smile.

“Are you going to put up a fight?”

“Not until you tell me to do something I didn’t already want to do,” Emma said, meeting Regina’s challenge with one of her own.

“Roll over.”

Emma smirked. “What’s the magic word?”

“Do you want to cum, Miss Swan?”

Emma barked out a laugh. “Good enough for me.”

With some effort, Emma heaved herself off the far too comfortable mattress and rolled onto her stomach. She was more than a little uneasy being naked this way; she felt vulnerable in this position, realizing the level of trust she was putting in Regina.

She felt capable, confident fingers wiggle in the space between her knees and the mattress. Regina grabbed onto Emma’s lower thighs and pulled until the blonde was up on her hands and knees.

“Much better.”

“Regina.” Emma’s voice wavered on the one-word warning. She shivered when she felt hands ghost over her outer thighs to rest lightly on her hips.

“Don’t worry, dear.”

“I don’t like surpri—.” Emma’s words were cut off by a gentle, but firm smack to her backside. “The fuck?” she growled. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and glared.

Regina tried to look innocent, but she knew her horns were showing. She couldn’t help it though; she had Emma Swan on her knees. The temptation had been far too great, and she’d never been good about willpower. “I’m sorry. Should I warn you before I spank you?” she cooed.

“Or you could just not slap me,” Emma snapped. “Ever think of that?”

Regina’s short, manicured nails trailed over the place where her palm had struck. She hadn’t hit Emma all that hard, but her porcelain skin still showed a faint pink mark. Her hands left Emma’s backside and moved to rest on the inside of her thighs. The skin there was warm and impossibly soft, while still feeling taunt and femininely muscled beneath her confident touch. She applied slight pressure on her inner thighs, coaxing Emma’s legs further apart on the mattress.

Emma bit down on her lower lip when she felt the other woman spreading her wider apart. “Regina.” If she’d thought she’d felt vulnerable before, simply lying on her stomach, this new position took that vulnerability to a whole new level.

The hands at Emma’s thighs tightened. “Are you ready for me, Miss Swan?”

Before Emma could respond or react, she felt the mattress sink and shift beneath her hands and knees, and then suddenly Regina’s mouth was on her sex. Emma breathed in sharply through her nose.

Regina licked the length of Emma’s slit. “Oh God,” Emma quietly groaned when she felt the tip of Regina’s tongue just barely flick against her clit before sliding all the way back again.

Regina held hard onto the blonde’s pale thighs, fingers digging in as if she worried Emma might try to run away. She flattened her tongue and licked again, tasting Emma’s arousal, thick on her tongue.

Emma felt the absence of Regina’s heat and the mattress moved again. “Why did you…why did you stop?” she choked out, feeling equally annoyed and breathless.  
She groaned again when she felt Regina’s naked body drape over her own and when her breasts flattened against her back. She could feel all of the former mayor this way.

“I didn’t stop. I just changed my mind.” Regina thrust her pelvic bone lightly back and forth, pressing against Emma’s sex from behind with each forward thrust. She could practically feel Emma’s wetness and her own saliva, wet on her skin.

“About what?” Emma was starting to feel the burn in her forearms from holding up her weight, but she was keenly aware of how good Regina’s body felt pressed against her own, and she craved more.

Regina’s breath was warm and tickled her right ear. “How I’m going to make you come undone, dear.”

“Oo-okay,” Emma stuttered.

Regina placed her middle finger against the opening of Emma’s sex. She stroked her finger up and down her wet slit, gathering Emma’s arousal. Slowly, she sunk her digit inside from the first to the second knuckle. She rotated her single finger like a corkscrew and was rewarded with quiet mewls of appreciation.

Regina’s free hand wrapped around Emma’s torso. She curled her finger up and sought out the slightly textured upper wall that she knew would make Emma scream.

The arm around Emma’s waist tightened. “Don’t you cum,” Regina growled into her ear. “Don’t you fucking cum.”

One finger followed another and Emma whimpered at the delicious stretch. Regina’s movements slowed, letting the other woman accommodate to the new intrusion, before she resumed her punishing pace.

Regina couldn’t help her own groan at feeling Emma, so warm and wet, and a surge of pride knowing that it was she who had done this. She dipped in and out, mesmerized at the sight of her fingers being sucked in and out of the blonde’s shaved sex.

The arm around Emma’s waist gave way, and a hand, hard and stern, pressed down in the center of Emma’s back, flattening her to the mattress while the other hand continued to assault her from behind. “Don’t cum,” Regina warned again. “I want to keep fucking you like this all night.”

Emma closed her eyes and tried not to dwell on the fact that she was on all fours and that the one woman in this town who could destroy her was fingering her from behind.

The combination of her words and the magic of her punishing fingers caused Emma to cry out. She wasn’t close to orgasm yet, but she knew how to get there. “Please,” she gasped, trying to arch into Regina’s unrelenting touch. The hand just above her ass kept her pressed against the mattress, denying her the freedom of movement she sought. “Please, Regina,” Emma pled. “I need to cum.”

Regina’s fingers continued to pierce her. Emma’s head was unceremoniously forced up and back when Regina made good use of her long, blonde hair, fisting it back into a ponytail with her free hand. Emma’s head jerked backwards, her back arched and her naked breasts jutted out, but she could finally lift her ass from the mattress to meet Regina’s thrusts with those of her own.

Regina gave a pained, but approving noise as Emma pushed back against her, challenging her, forcing her, to fuck her even harder.

Regina slammed her fingers harder and faster. She let go of Emma’s hair and snaked her hand around her waist so she could pinch and stroke Emma’s clit between her fingers.

“Do it.” The words were sharp. “Cum, Emma.”

Emma fell forward and screamed into her pillow, her cries muffled by the thick down material. Her arms gave out, her knees wobbled unsteadily, and she crashed flat on the mattress. “Holy shit,” she gasped, when her breathing came back under her control.

Emma thought herself in shape, but Regina had her rethinking that. She hadn’t been so thoroughly fucked and her muscles reveled the aftermath. She was going to feel this woman in the morning.

++++

She didn't know when she’d closed her eyes. Regina's bedroom was the perfect temperature, her mattress the perfect combination of sturdy and soft, and the warm body beside her smelled entirely edible. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but she’d been so relaxed, so comfortable.

But even the most pleasant surroundings couldn't keep the dreams away.

She shot up in bed, breathing heavily as though she'd just run a great distance. Beside her, Regina roused from her own sleep.

Worry crossed Regina’s features. She reached out and pressed the back of her hand against Emma’s sweaty brow. “You’re burning up,” she frowned.

Emma jerked away from the concerned touch. “I’m fine.” She tossed back the blanket Regina had placed over her at some point in the night and scrambled out of bed.

Regina sat up. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” She pulled on her jeans and hopped a bit to get them all the way up her lean legs. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“I’m not exactly kicking you out of my bed, dear.”

“I don’t do sleepovers. Sorry.”

Regina opened her mouth, but deciding against it, snapped her jaw shut. Her face clouded over, shuttering away the former worry I was sure I’d seen. “Well please do be sure to lock the front door on your way out. I’d hate for a criminal to take advantage while one half of the town’s police force is otherwise preoccupied.”

Emma pulled her t-shirt over rambunctious blonde hair. She was embarrassed to have fallen asleep on Regina’s bed, but even more so that she had witnessed one of the nightmares. She knew she should thank her for the evening or kiss her or even say that she’d call her later, but her mortification had her keeping those sentiments to herself.

++++

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> continued thanks for the kudos and reviews!

**Chapter 7**

Emma pushed the grocery cart up and down the aisles of the only grocery store in Storybrooke. The store was clean and brightly lit, but it felt old and rundown like the rest of the town as it hadn't been updated in 28 years. It occurred to her that before the curse had been broken she'd never questioned why she'd never seen a delivery truck come into the city limits or why no one drove a new car. Even the mayor, with all her fancy belongings, drove an older model Mercedes that was practically an antique now.

The food selection at the store was equally minimalist. If she had been the kind of person who only ate organic, non-fat, gluten-free, all natural food, she would have starved. Everything was full fat, layered in pesticides, and pumped full of steroids. And everything went into the cart. She and Henry probably could have eaten healthier if they stuck to Granny's for every meal, but at least eating at home provided the illusion of health.

"Emma! Hey!" Mary Margaret waved from across the produce section. She maneuvered her grocery cart around a few other shoppers to make her way towards the deli counter where Emma stood.

Emma grimaced at the flailing woman. The attention gave her the same feeling as picking a cart with a squeaky wheel. She felt the eyes of every shopper on her.

"Hey!" the pixie-haired woman greeted again when she parked her cart. "How's the new apartment? How are you and Henry settling in?"

Emma cast her eyes around the store, thankful that the onlookers had resumed their shopping. "Slow, but steady. We've got most of the furniture where we want it, and Henry's got his things unpacked from Regina's. Now we just need to start putting things on the walls to make it really feel like home."

Mary Margaret's head bobbed. "Well if you need anything, you know where to find David and me."

"Thanks for the offer, but I've got this. I'm kind of an expert at moving in and out of places." Her gaze slipped down to her grocery cart filled with easy-to-fix meals - frozen pizzas, boxes of macaroni and cheese, and TV dinners. "But I feel like I missed out on other things grown ups are supposed to know how to do by now."

Mary Margaret caught the source of Emma's discomfort. "Oh, don't worry about that. Lots of people can't cook." Her pink lips twitched. "If you'd stuck around a little longer, I could have taught you."

Emma frowned. "You know we couldn't stay there forever."

Mary Margaret nodded and pushed out a sigh. "I know."

"I suppose I should learn how to cook though," Emma remarked, leaning against her grocery cart, "now that I've got another mouth to feed."

"Well, I love to cook," Mary Margaret chirped. "We should do a weekly family dinner. What do you think about that?"

"Define 'family.'"

"You, me, David, and Henry, of course."

"What about Regina?" The name got stuck in Emma's throat.

"Regina?" Mary Margaret echoed. "I…I didn't realize you'd want her there."

Emma let her eyes roam rather than settling on the confusion on Mary Margaret's face. If it weren't for her discomfort, she might have missed a familiar flash of dark hair and painted lipstick across the produce section.

"Shit."

"Something wrong?" Mary Margaret asked.

Regina stood near the tomatoes and avocadoes. Her outfit was out of place in the small grocery store. Her grey pants were crisp and wrinkle-free, and her makeup was flawlessly applied with not a hair on her head out of place. Dark bangs swooped low over her forehead just above a twin pair of warm, caramel-colored eyes framed in dark eyeliner and mascara. A hint of a dark blue top peeked out from the open collar of a short trench coat and a neat string of pearls gleamed under the fluorescent lighting.

Emma's first instinct was to duck behind Mary Margaret or her grocery cart. She hadn't seen or spoken to Regina after she'd scampered out of the former mayor's bedroom the previous night without an explanation why. Regina had not made any attempt to contact her, however, and for the moment, at least until she could get these nightmares under control, she wanted it to stay that way.

"Nothing."

Emma watched Regina carefully inspect a pile of red delicious apples. She picked up each one individually, looking for bruises and other signs of imperfections. The rejected apples were returned to the pile, while those deemed good enough were bagged and placed in her cart. Emma wondered if given the chance to be under that woman's scrutinizing eye again on which pile she'd end up.

"Back to the topic of Regina."

Emma's head jerked to refocus on the schoolteacher's face.

Mary Margaret seemed to shudder as she stood. "I'm sorry, Emma, but I can't imagine sitting down to a civil meal with that woman. And I can understand your desire to make amends with her for Henry's sake, but …"

"I get it," Emma cut her off. "Regina's not part of the family."

She bit her lip as her eyes followed the woman who continued to fill her grocery cart with fruits and vegetables, apparently unaware of the double set of eyes on her.

* * *

Emma lay on top of the covers of her new bed, stripped down to running shorts and a black tank top. It was damnably hot in her new two-bedroom apartment. All the windows that could be open were open, but no air would circulate through the living space. Despite the warm Indian Summer they were experiencing, the radiant heat in the building was turned up to full blast. Her face felt like it was covered in a fine layer of grease, and her back was on fire simply from having contact with the bed beneath her. Even if she hadn't been afraid to close her eyes and subject herself to another round of What New Way Can Cora Torture Regina, it was too hot to sleep.

She heard was a quiet knock at the front door. She glanced once in the direction of her alarm clock. It was late. Henry was already in bed and it was too late for Mary Margaret or David to stop by without first calling. She didn't know anyone else knew about the new apartment.

There was no peephole, so she was forced to blindly open the front door. Her body jerked when she saw the town's former mayor standing on the other side of the entrance. Despite her surprise, she managed an awkward greeting. "Uh, hi."

Regina shoved the plant she'd been holding into Emma's waiting arms.

"You brought me a plant?"

Regina's lips pursed. "It's a housewarming present."

Emma hefted the potted plant and inspected it. "I'm not very good with these things."

"I suspected as much. Luckily spider plants are resilient. I doubt even you could kill this plant, Sheriff." Regina pushed past Emma, inviting herself in.

"We're back to formal titles?" Emma sighed and, hands currently occupied with a hanging plant, she shut the door with her bare foot – a movement she'd done just the previous night, but under vastly different circumstances.

Regina stood in the center of the apartment, eyes darting to all corners as if to appraise the new living space. It was similar in layout to the apartment Emma had shared with Mary Margaret – a large, open floor plan with living room and kitchen connected, but with more private bedrooms elsewhere in the apartment. "I hadn't realized we'd stopped."

"You called me by my name last night." It was the first time Emma had directly referenced their night together, even to herself.

Regina's mouth twisted. "Last night I was vulnerable." She shoved her hands into the pockets of the trench coat she wore over what Emma assumed to be an impeccable outfit. "I'll be sure not to let it happen again."

Emma dropped the plant on the kitchen table for the time being. She'd find a nice window to set it by later, after Regina left. "Do you always push people away?"

Regina's mouth opened and closed. Emma knew people rarely called her out like that. "Yes. It's what I do best, Sheriff."

"Maybe second best."

Regina's eyes narrowed. Emma imagined her as an annoyed cat, long tail flicking back and forth in agitation. "I trust you'll be discreet about what happened last night."

"Who would I even tell?" She couldn't imagine the look of horror on Mary Margaret's face if she found out she'd had sex with the former Evil Queen. Just her suggestion that they have a shared dinner had made the schoolteacher visibly upset.

"Indeed."

Emma released a sigh. "Why does it have to be like this? Why do we have to fight like cats and dogs?"

"Perhaps I don't take kindly to being drowned."

Emma furrowed her eyebrows. "When did I…" She blinked, realizing, and then a scowl marred her face. "Spilling my drink on you is hardly  _drowning_  you, Regina."

" _Two_ drinks, dear," Regina reminded her. "And I'm half a mind to send you the bill for my dry cleaning."

Emma scratched at the back of her neck. "How did you find me? Henry and I  _just_ moved in."

"Didn't you get the memo?" Regina flashed a painted smile. "I'm the Evil Queen, dear. I know everything that goes on in my town."

"Oh. Right. Do you, uh, want something to drink?" Emma anxiously asked. She didn't know how to play hostess, especially not with this woman.

Regina arched an eyebrow – a task she'd done so often she'd mastered the look. "So you can dump it on me, or so you can take advantage of me when you get me drunk?"

"I, uh." Emma had no idea how to answer that question.

"No thank you, dear," Regina saved Emma further anxiety. "I only came by to drop off the plant. I know it's late." She cleared her throat and suddenly looked unsure of herself. "I-I would have called ahead, but I didn't know if you'd see me. You…you took off quite abruptly last night."

Emma swallowed hard. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I just…" She pushed out a breath, not wanting to continue her sentence.

Regina cleared her throat. "No need to explain yourself. I know it must have been a shock to have woken up in my bed, next to me."

"No, Regina, I—"

The vulnerability Regina had briefly displayed was gone, and had been replaced by the grim, stoical mask Emma had gotten too used to seeing. "Have a good night, Miss Swan."

* * *

The next day, Emma knocked on the wooden door with the words "Mayor" stenciled on the outside.

"Yes?"

She poked her head through the doorway. Regina didn't look up from a stack of papers on her desk. She wore reading glasses perched near the end of her nose. But instead of looking matronly, the glasses only added to her appeal.

"Peace offering for being an idiot?"

Regina's head snapped up and she removed her glasses in one smooth movement at the sound of the other woman's voice. "This ought to be good," she smirked.

Emma stepped into the mayor's office. She didn't quite know what to call the space anymore though since it technically didn't belong to Regina anymore. The election was only days away. "I thought you might like some lunch."

"And what grease-laden product have you brought with you today, Sheriff?"

"There's a cheeseburger and fries." Emma produced a carryout bag from Granny's. The grease spots were already visible through the white bag.

Regina laid her hands on her desk. "You know I don't eat that," she said sternly.

"It's for me," Emma beamed. "I brought you a chicken Caesar salad."

Regina's mouth twitched. "What kind of chicken?"

"Grilled. Not fried. No breading."

"Come in."

Emma burst through the office door before Regina could change her mind and the invitation. She put the bag with Regina's salad on the desk in front of her and sat down in an opposite chair with her own food on her lap.

"So I guess I found the magic words. Or food."

"You just caught me in a moment of weakness," Regina brushed off. "I've been elbow deep in budgets today and lost track of time. It will actually be a  _relief_ when someone else takes over this thankless job."

"Why are you still helping out?" Emma asked as she unwrapped her cheeseburger. Granny put the melted cheese underneath the ground beef patty and it made all the difference. It was one of the best burgers she'd ever had.

"Someone has to do it." Regina pulled the plastic container that held her salad out of the takeout bag. "It's not like time stands still just because Storybrooke is currently without a mayor." She stared pointedly at Emma. "In fact I think we have  _you_ to thank for that, Miss Swan."

"Maybe you're not so evil after all." Emma noted between mouthfuls of burger.

Regina delicately stabbed her salad with the plastic fork she'd found included in the bag. "I'm sure you're the only one in this town who would think that."

"Maybe you should fudge the numbers a little while you still can. Like boost the police office's budget?" Emma wiggled her eyebrows. "You know…to show your appreciation for my loyalty."

"Clever, Sheriff."

"Hey, I'm not just a pretty face attached to a smoking hot body," Emma shrugged. She fished a fistful of fries out of the bottom of the bag and shoved them in her mouth.

"I don't see how a steady diet of Twinkies and beer could possibly help your physique."

Emma lifted the bottom of her Henley top, revealing a defined abdomen. "If it works, why question it?"

Emma watched Regina's eyes fall first to her tightened torso before she returned her gaze to her salad container. "Do you ever sleep?"

Emma tugged her shirt back into place. "Pardon?"

"I know for a fact that you've been working the night shift lately and yet you're here at City Hall during the day. Do you ever sleep, Miss Swan?"

The seemingly harmless question caused Emma to squirm. She shoved her half-eaten burger back into the carryout bag. "I'm sorry. I'll go. I know you're busy." With a quick look around to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, she awkwardly stood up.

"Emma, I didn't mean for you to leave." Regina's refined featured furrowed.

"No. I - you're right. I should go."

Regina stood up from behind her desk. "Something's got you spooked. And I want to know what it is."

Emma hesitated in the doorway. The lingering scent of deep fried foods surrounded her. "I'm fine, Regina."

"When do you work tonight?" Regina asked.

"Ten."

"Come out to the house then. I'll be waiting for your story." Regina didn't wait for Emma's response. She resumed her seat, gracefully returning to her chair as though taking her place on a regal throne.

Emma almost wished she could have seen Regina back in her Evil Queen days. She would have been magnificent.

* * *

Regina opened the door after the first knock. She knew the blonde would show up; there wasn't a question about that. She pressed a glass into Emma's hands, grabbed the front of her v-neck shirt, and pulled the sheriff through the doorway. Her lips were immediately on Emma's and she was pushed hard against the back of the door. Regina tasted like bourbon and lipstick. But before Emma could react, Regina's mouth was gone and so was she.

The kiss left Emma vibrating. She drank down whatever was in the glass without thinking. She expected the fiery burn of Regina's cider, but it was only plain juice. With a bewildered shake of her head, she followed Regina into the study.

The curtains were pulled open and moonlight shone in through the grand windows. It was too warm out for a fire, so the fireplace remained cold and dark. Only a few lamps illuminated the formal room. Regina took a seat on a red leather couch with a tumbler glass in one hand. She crossed one leg over the other and patted the space beside her, sparing Emma the mental anguish of deciding where to sit.

Regina's work clothes had been abandoned for cotton sleep pants and a camisole. It was the most relaxed Emma had ever seen her, but her signature red lipstick remained.

Emma sat next to Regina, careful to maintain a respectable amount of space between their bodies.

"So tell me what's been troubling you."

Emma shook her empty glass. "I might need a refill first."

Regina's lips pursed and then broadened into a smile. "More apple juice, Sheriff? I wouldn't want you to over-do it."

"You're right." Emma gave her a cheeky grin, sure to bring out her dimples. "Anymore juice and it wouldn't be responsible for me to drive."

"And then you'd have to stay the night." Short nails scratched down the length of Emma's arm. "It would be irresponsible of me to let you get behind the wheel."

The intensity of emotions in that dimly lit room had her head swimming. Emma didn't need alcohol; Regina's presence was intoxicating enough. Emma stared at the woman's lips, realizing just how much she wanted to kiss her. She wished she were bold enough to lean across the couch and pull the other woman into a kiss that she'd feel down to her painted toenails.

"But back to the reason for your visit," Regina smiled serenely.

The words roused Emma from the game of seduction chicken. "I've been having strange dreams ever since I got back from the Enchanted Forest."

Regina pulled her legs up on the couch, pulling them tight against her chest. "And what happens in these dreams?"

"They're about you."

"Scandalous," Regina gasped in mock surprise.

"Not…not like  _that_ ," Emma blustered. She felt the warm blush creep onto her cheeks. She didn't think she could ever tell her about  _that_  dream. "They're about you in the Enchanted Forest." She paused. "With your mother."

"My mother?" Regina echoed, all tease and seductive fire gone from her features.

Emma nodded. "She likes to suspend you in the air and there's tree branches that wrap you up. You're so angry, but so…" She searched for the right word, not wanting to offend. "Powerless."

The tip of Regina's tongue flicked out to touch at the scar on the top of her lip. "Those aren't dreams, Emma," she said quietly. "They're memories."

Emma bit her lower lip. "I was worried about that."

Regina's dark eyes closed. "What you've just briefly described is something she often did – especially when I was trying to get out of marrying the King, Snow White's father." She released an uneasy breath and opened her eyes with new clarity. "I know you battled Cora in the Enchanted Forest. Did anything unusual happen when you met her?"

"Besides the Ogres and Giants and meeting Captain Hook?"

Regina brought her glass to her lips. Her lipstick left a stain on the rim. "Indeed."

Emma fiddled with her empty glass, rolling it back and forth in clasped hands. She wanted something stronger; it had been a long couple of days. But she knew that just one glass of Regina's potent cider would knock her on her ass and this was a conversation she needed to have – sober.

"Cora tried to rip out my heart."

Regina looked startled. "What do you mean she  _tried_? That would suggest she failed."

"She was going to kill Mary Margaret. I pushed her out of the way and Cora's hand went right into my chest. But she couldn't take my heart for some reason."

Regina's features creased in thought. "Because you have magic."

"Gold said he thought it's because I'm the product of True Love."

"You've made a connection to Cora, that much is apparent." Regina drummed her fingernails against the leather of the couch. "I don't know if she's doing this directly to you from the Enchanted Forest, or if you somehow made a psychic connection with her and these memories as just the after-affects of her trying to take your heart."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Emma sighed.

They were both silent, each trapped in thoughts.

It was Regina who eventually broke the thoughtful silence. "Have you told your parents? About the dreams?"

"No. We'd just got back and everything's been going great and I didn't want to worry them."

"You're a stubborn fool, you know."

"You sound like you're actually concerned for my well-being," Emma deflected.

Regina rolled her eyes. "I'd just hate to see tax-payer money wasted when you finally burn yourself out and aren't able to properly do your job."

"Always thinking about the good people of Storybrooke," Emma smiled. "I really  _am_ starting to doubt this Evil Queen label."

Regina's returned smile was mild and complacent. "I probably shouldn't keep you any longer. I know you had a long night of protecting and serving ahead of you."

She was right, but Emma didn't want to go. She wanted to stay on Regina's couch and continue to enjoy her company long after the sun had come up. Regina stood from the couch and walked in the direction of the front door. Emma left her empty glass behind and reluctantly followed.

Emma hesitated with Regina in the foyer. "Thank you for the drink," she smiled genuinely.

"Thank you for telling me about your dreams." Regina hugged herself. "I'll see what kind of digging I can do to help."

"I should have told someone a long time ago," Emma admitted. "You specifically. I'm a Rookie when it comes to magic, and you're the Master."

"Well, I've personally always preferred the title of Mistress," Regina said, brows arched, "but whatever you want to call me, dear."

Emma had a cheeky smile of her own. "You'd like that a little too much."

"You might be right."

The kiss was soft, and just barely there, but Emma felt it all over like Regina's lips were directly connected to her nerve endings.

Emma stumbled down the last step of the front concrete stoop. Regina covered her mouth and a laugh with her hand.

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry for the delay with this update, but I've been working around the clock to finish my latest original novel, _Drained: The Lucid_. Details about its release and where you can find it are included at the end of this chapter. happy reading!

* * *

 

There wasn't a peephole on her apartment door, so when there was a knock, Emma was forced to answer the door without knowing who was on the other side. It was disorienting, like answering a landline with no Caller ID.

"Regina."

The former mayor stood in the hallway looking like a million bucks in a cream colored blouse which she'd tucked into a patterned pencil skirt. She wore a long statement necklace around her neck, black nylons, and heels. Emma blinked once and shook her head. It was unfair how Regina's olive skin perfectly contrasted with the color of her shirt. If she tried to wear something like that, she'd only look washed out.

"I looked for you at the station," Regina said, as if to explain her appearance at Emma's front door, "but David said you hadn't been in the past few days."

Emma leaned against the doorframe. "Yeah. I thought I'd take a little break from Sheriffing. I've been looking into getting a hobby." She knew she was being rude, but her lack of sleep over the past few weeks had left her worn and frayed at the edges.

"I got you something." Regina didn't wait for Emma's response. She pulled the object out of a black leather bag she had strapped over one shoulder. "It's a dream catcher." She held the ornament in one hand, and it twisted on a loop of fishing line.

Its significance took Emma by surprise. Telling Regina about her unsettling dreams had occurred in a moment of weakness. Emma was a fiercely proud and independent woman, and admitting vulnerability wasn't in her nature. She didn't know what to say or how to respond. "Would you like to come in?" she settled for.

Regina's heels clicked on the wooden flooring as she entered the apartment, and Emma closed the door behind her.

"I talked to Gold about your dreams," Regina said, flipping a lock of hair away from her forehead.

"You told Gold?" Emma interrupted.

Regina pressed her lips together. "I just said so, didn't I?"

"Sorry, I didn't expect that."

"He's the only person in town more familiar with the topics of magic and my mother than myself. It was the obvious choice. Anyway," Regina said, her voice rising in octave as if daring Emma to interrupt her again, "he confirmed my suspicions."

"Which are?"

"I believe that in the absence of magic beans or an enchanted compass that Cora is trying to use you as a portal to get to Storybrooke. That might explain why you've been sharing these memories with her."

"Me? A portal?" Emma nearly choked. She absently pressed her palm to her breastplate, over her heart. She could almost feel the phantom pain where Cora had plunged her hand into her chest. "So is this going to be like some _Alien_ the movie shit, and your mom busts out of my chest?"

Regina's nose wrinkled. "Alien the movie?"

"Of course you've never heard of _Alien_." Emma suppressed an eye roll. Trying to explain pop culture references to fairytale characters was like talking to a wall. "But back to this me-as-a-portal business – how would that even be possible? I thought you needed magic beans or a magic hat or something."

"Your magic is an unknown, but it's also elemental," Regina explained. "It's a permanent part of you. Even if you never used magic again, it would still be there."

Her lips twisted into a faraway smile. "My mother must be insanely jealous of your power. Yours is a birthright. Hers had to be learned."

"Like yours."

The smile vanished from Regina's painted lips. "But the difference is, Miss Swan, is that I'm jealous of you for an entirely different reason."

Emma bit her lower lip. She didn't need to ask Regina what she meant. Henry. "What was Gold's price?" she asked, clearing her throat and desperately wanting to change the subject. "We both know he doesn't give out magic or advice for free."

"That's between Rumple and myself." Regina gave Emma a shrewd look that told her not to press her further on the matter.

Emma puffed out a breath. "So now what? How do I get rid of these dreams and close this connection to your mother? Cause I sure as hell don't plan on being used as a doorway."

"With more magic, unfortunately." Regina raised the dream catcher and frowned.

"It's enchanted?" Emma took the wheel from Regina and held it up to the light. It was wrapped in tan leather with a long tail of feathers and a few light blue beads stuck into the webbing. Regina had said she would look into these dreamed memories she had been experiencing, but honestly she hadn't thought the former Evil Queen would follow through with her words. Now the solution seemed to be staring at her in the face – but Gold's warning mantra echoed in her brain: All magic comes with a price. "What do I do?" she asked.

"It's so simple, Miss Swan, even you can't screw it up."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You sleep," Regina explained. "And we hope the dream catcher catches the memories and keeps my mother out of your head."

Emma looked up from the ornament. "Would you like to spend the night?"

Regina's eyes widened. "Oh, I …"

"You know, to make sure the Dream Catcher works." Emma couldn't help the smirk that came to her lips. Regina was usually unflappable, but Emma's invitation had brought a visible blush to the apples of her cheeks.

Regina wet her lips. "I wouldn't want to impose. And I certainly don't know how you'd explain it to Henry that his mothers are having a sleepover party."

"Henry's staying at his grandparents' tonight, so I'm on my own." The corners of Emma's generous mouth tugged up. "Don't make me beg, Regina."

"I … I suppose I could stay," Regina slowly agreed. "To make sure the dream catcher does it job," she was quick to add.

"Uh huh," Emma chuckled. She set the dream catcher on the kitchen island, out of mind but not forgotten. "Because we all know I can screw up even the most simple directions."

Regina teetered in the center of the apartment, looking unwontedly awkward like she didn't know what to do with herself. She crossed her arms across her chest, and then wrung her hands in front of her body, before finally settling her hands on canted hips. The bag to which she continued to cling made each movement exponentially awkward.

"Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?" Emma walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. "There's not much in here, but I suppose I could throw something together for dinner."

"You know how to cook?" Regina snorted in disbelief.

Emma made a face and closed the door. "Actually, no."

Regina dropped her bag onto the floor and crossed the distance of the kitchen. She gently nudged Emma out of the way and opened the refrigerator to examine its contents. "I suppose I could be bothered to make you a decent meal," she sniffed. "It wouldn't do to have you have a heart attack from all that cholesterol you ply to your body. The medical bills alone would be a hardship on the town."

Emma settled down on a stool at the kitchen island and watched as the former mayor began to pull pots and pans from the cabinets. "Careful, Regina," she grinned knowingly. Her feet couldn't reach the ground so she swung them back and forth. "Between the dream catcher and dinner, I might start thinking you actually care about my well-being."

* * *

Emma pushed back her empty plate with a satisfied sigh. "Damn, Regina. It's a miracle Henry doesn't weight three hundred pounds the way you cook." Even if she had never possessed magic, Regina was still a magician in the kitchen. How she'd been able to scrape together a delicious meal with the meager offerings found in Emma's refrigerator and pantry had been nothing short of miraculous.

Regina finished the remaining bites on her plate and dabbed the corners of her lipsticked mouth with a paper napkin. "It's called nutrition, Miss Swan. I don't suppose they taught you about the food pyramid in school?"

"I'm sure they did, but I was too busy eating glue to pay attention," Emma winked.

Regina pushed out a long breath. "You really do live up to the Charming name, dear."

Emma chose not to continue the easy banter and instead sipped red wine out of her glass pint. Despite the unorthodox stemware, she thought the wine itself tasted nice. She wasn't a big wine drinker, much preferring beer and hard liquor, but she'd purchased the bottle on a whim during her last visit to the grocery store. It was almost as if her subconscious had anticipated having dinner with Regina Mills. She let the spicy, dry flavors wash over her tongue. From the way Regina had helped herself to a second and third glass during dinner, she sensed that the former mayor approved of the vintage as well.

Emma set her glass down on the kitchen island and twisted on the stool to regard the brunette who sat beside her. She didn't think she'd ever seen Regina look so beautiful. Her eyes were mirthful, white teeth flashing under painted lips, and her raven hair was styled to frame her classically beautiful features. Her only flaw was the slightly visible scar at the top corner of her lip. Emma found herself wanting to know the story behind the scar. None of her dream memories had told her the origin of that yet. She wanted to know all of Regina's stories. She wanted to see all her scars.

"What?"

Emma blinked once and roused herself from her thoughts. "Huh?"

"You're looking at me like I've grown a third eye," Regina said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Emma shook her head hard. "Sorry. My mind was wandering."

Regina set her nearly empty glass down. "Perhaps you should try to get some sleep, dear. We should see if Gold's dream catcher will do the job."

"Yeah, uh, I think you're probably right." Emma stood up awkwardly from the island countertop. "I'll just clean all this up first," she said, motioning to their empty plates and utensils.

Regina waved a dismissive hand. "They'll still be here in the morning. Now go get ready for bed."

Regina was in the kitchen, elbow-deep in sudsy water, when Emma emerged from the bathroom, teeth scrubbed and face washed. Regina had shed her clothes from the work day; her pencil skirt and cream-colored shirt were now carefully folded and sat on the cushion of the overstuffed easy chair in the nook that Emma referred to as the 'living room.' A delicate beige lace bra sat on the top of the pile along with her stockings and heels.

Emma's eyes swept up the other woman's slender, toned legs, now bare, up to the barely visible underwear that peeked out from the bottom hem a borrowed T-shirt. The touchably soft material contrasted nicely with the sinfully sexy white and black lace underwear. The T-shirt wasn't ill-fitted, but it hung more loosely on Regina's thin frame. Regina was smaller than Emma, narrower shoulders and more feminine curves, where Emma was long, sleek, and lean.

"That T-shirt has never looked so good," Emma openly admired.

Regina spun on naked heels, looking startled as if she hadn't heard Emma come out of the bathroom. The surprise faded when she realized the praise. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't really come prepared for a sleepover."

Emma crossed the room, suddenly unsatisfied with the distance between them. She toyed with the bottom hem of the t-shirt. "Maybe I just mind that you're wearing clothes at all," she husked, feeling braver than usual.

"That's a nice line," Regina smirked. "Been thinking about it long?"

"Just came to my head. You must be particularly inspiring."

Emma looked at the kitchen sink, filled with hot water and soapsuds. Everything about the setting felt overly domestic: the homemade meal, Regina doing the dishes, and her wearing Emma's clothes. She should have been panicking, but instead she found the situation comfortable. Natural. "I thought you said those could wait until morning?" she said, nodding to the half-cleaned dishes.

"You question me too much, Sheriff." Regina's hands found the straps of Emma's a-frame tank top. They were damp from the dishwater. She gave a sharp tug on the clothing and Emma's breath caught in her throat. "And you're also wearing too much."

* * *

 

Outside, someone's dog barked incessantly. Inside Emma's apartment, Regina's breathing came in quiet, deep inhalations that told the blonde that she was sleeping. The moon cast strange shadows on Regina's bare legs, dark stripes from the dividers of the window over the headboard. She slept on top of the covers because of the muggy temperature in the over-heated apartment. Even though Regina had grown up in the Enchanted Forest, Emma was sure this was as close to 'roughing it' as Regina ever got.

Emma flicked her eyes to the dream catcher that hung over her headboard. Regina had said it would help, but she didn't want to dream tonight. She didn't trust magic, but she was sure watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Regina's chest would lull her to sleep eventually.

She traced her hands softly down the curve of Regina's hip. Her touch was soft so as to not disturb the other woman's sleep. She traveled the distance from the twisted narrow waist up a gently swelling thigh, down a jutting hip that made its presence known even beneath the satin of Regina's undergarment.

Regina stirred and Emma hastily pulled her hand away. Regina rolled over on the mattress. Dark eyes looked confused. "You're still awake?"

Emma allowed herself an unnecessary and indulgent touch and brushed a sweep of brunette hair away from Regina's brow. "I'm fine," she quietly insisted. "Go back to sleep."

Regina's eyes fluttered closed once again. Emma thought she looked young without her dramatic makeup. She never looked overdone, but without the smoky eyeshadow or the crimson lipstick, she looked different. Vulnerable. Human.

"I can feel you looking at me," Regina remarked, eyes still closed. "Stop it."

"Where should I look instead?" Emma posed.

"How about the backs of your eyelids?" Regina suggested.

Emma reached out and tentatively ran the tip of her index finger over Regina's stained lips. She lightly grazed over the small white scar that dipped into the top of her lip.

"Tell me this story."

Regina's dark eyes fluttered open. "Will you tell me yours?"

"Mine?"

"I feel at a slight disadvantage. You know all about my childhood because of your dreams," Regina pointed out. "I know nothing about yours."

Emma shut her eyes, and she felt a single tear escape the corner of her eye. Regina's fingers reached out to collect it before any others could threaten to follow. "Another time, perhaps," Emma heard her say.

Emma rested her head on Regina's breastplate and kept her eyes closed. She felt raw and vulnerable, something that didn't settle well. She fought the instinct to run, like she'd done the first time Regina had observed her nightmares. As if sensing the blonde's agitation, Regina reached under the covers to find Emma's hand and interweave their fingers. The way she held Emma's hand was enough to make her stay.

Regina cleared her throat and it reverberated through her chest. "I'm sure you know that my mother came from far more humble beginnings," she started. "Her father was a miller, but she became the wife of a prince, my father."

"Miller," Emma repeated. "Is that why you chose the last name Mills?"

Regina hummed in the back of her throat. "I suppose you're not as blonde as you look, dear," she lightly teased.

"Back to the scar," Emma scoffed.

"Yes…well, we rarely visited my mother's family after she wed my father. She didn't need to be reminded of her birthright. But around my sixth birthday, we found need to visit. Her father had died—drunk himself to death if I recall correctly—and we traveled to settle his estate. It's probably my first memory, or at least the one that's stuck with me. I was standing at the end of a pier, pretending to fish or some nonsense."

A choked laugh bubbled up Emma's throat and escaped before she could stop it.

Emma could practically feel the heat of a pointed glare digging into the top of her head. "I can't even imagine what you find so funny," Regina said sternly.

Emma rested her chin against Regina's collarbone and looked up at the other woman. "I'm just having a hard time visualizing you, even as a child, doing something so rustic as fishing."

Regina's nostrils flared and her mouth curved down. "I may have grown up the daughter of a prince, but my father indulged my love of the outdoors. I climbed trees and wore pants and rode horses without a sidesaddle. I wasn't always like this."

Emma nearly asked her what had changed, but she already knew. Over the past few weeks her dreams had given her a firsthand account of what had caused Regina to become the Evil Queen.

"Is it safe for me to continue without further interruption?" Regina asked archly.

Emma smiled and pressed her lips tightly together.

Regina sighed, annoyance creeping into even the exhale of breath. She raked her fingers through her dark locks, pushing them away from her face before continuing.

"A village boy found me. He wanted to take the stick I had been pretending was a fishing pole. We fought about it, and he pushed me." She touched her fingertips against the small, white scar. "I fell and hit my mouth against a metal pole of the pier. It could have been worse, I suppose."

"Thank you." Emma drummed her fingertips against Regina's collarbone.

"For what?"

"You, opening up like that."

Her lip curled up. "It's just a story from my childhood, Sheriff. It's no great secret."

"We're in bed together, Regina," Emma deadpanned. "I think you can drop the formalities."

A playful grin appeared on Regina's beautiful mouth, and it warmed Emma like a beam of sunshine. "You say that as if I could forget."

The covers rustled around and Regina's fingers tugged on a sensitive nipple. Emma reflexively slapped her hands away, causing the brunette's eyes to narrow. This was a woman who did not like to be denied what she wanted, and it made Emma's heart pound a little heavier to know that at least in this moment it was her that she wanted.

"Go on a date with me?" Emma blurted out. As soon as the words tumbled out her stubborn mouth, she felt foolish and juvenile.

Regina's hands stilled in their less-than-innocent ministrations. "A date?" she said the word as if it held no meaning. "I don't date, Miss Swan. I'm a grown woman."

"So you just have illicit affairs?"

"I'd hardly call this an affair," Regina scoffed.

"Well, I don't know what to call it." Emma hefted herself up on one side and rested her weight on her elbow. The sheets slipped around her. "I'm kinda new to all this."

"Your tongue would indicate otherwise, dear."

Emma felt the blush creep up her cheeks and enflame even the tips of her ears. "Relationships, I mean. There was Henry's father, but we all know how that turned out."

"I can't give you any more. And let's not forget that your parents would never approve. No one in Storybrooke would approve, Emma."

"I don't care about what other people think," Emma said stubbornly.

"When I cut on my lip, my mother was not pleased as you might imagine. She called me flawed: damaged goods." Regina let out a ragged breath. "And no one can love damaged goods."

TBC

* * *

A/N2:

If you're a fan of my fan fiction, please check out my new original novel, _Drained: The Lucid_ , now available on Amazon under the pen name E.L. Blaisdell. I also publish lesbian fiction under the name Eliza Lentzski.

About Drained:

On the surface, Riley Carter had it all: amazing friends, a job she loved, a promising new girlfriend, and immortality. As an ambitious succubus working for Trusics, Inc., her life should have been simple. Nightly visits to the dream realm as the guest star in human fantasies afforded her the sexual energy required for survival. Provided she met her employer's monthly quotas, she would continue to enjoy the extravagant spoils of eternal youth. Life was pleasure for pleasure—until it wasn't.

Now in her seventh decade, Riley finds her life lacking, especially when she encounters a lucid dreamer. Armed with an analytic pragmatism as dangerous as any weapon, this new dreamer has Riley questioning the purpose of her existence.

Humor, romance, and intrigue meet in _Drained_ , the search for the perfect life in an imperfect system.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Emma woke up in an empty bed. She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. She shut her eyes and breathed in; she thought it smelled like Regina's perfume, but she was probably imagining it.

"For a police officer, your taste in coffee is appalling."

Emma's head jerked up when she heard Regina's voice. She thought the other woman had left before she'd woken up. She turned her head as far as it would go. The end of the mattress sank as Regina sat down with a cup of coffee in her hands.

"It's probably appalling _because_ I'm a cop," Emma quipped. "But that's nothing. You should drink the mud they tried to pass as coffee in prison."

"I think I'll take your word for it, Miss Swan."

Emma took a moment to regard the other woman. Regina's dark hair was slightly mussed from sleep and her makeup wasn't its usual crispness. Emma's T-shirt was gone, folded carefully on a chair in the corner of the bedroom. Regina had changed back into her clothes from the previous day; the cream-colored blouse was slightly wrinkled, but her Walk of Shame would be far classier than anyone else's. Regina always looked so polished in her immaculately tailored suits, but Emma thought she liked her best like this, visibly disheveled, but only just so, especially knowing that she was the reason for the slippage of Regina's hardened exterior.

Regina passed over the coffee mug, and Emma sat up in bed to take a sip. She inhaled and let the rich scent warm her. The coffee wasn't amazing, but it wasn't the worst thing she'd ever had.

Regina raked her fingers through her hair. "How did you sleep?"

Emma bobbed her head and took another sip of coffee. "Best night in a long time," she revealed. If it was because of the dream catcher or the woman who'd slept next to her, she didn't know.

"Did you have another dream?"

"None that I can remember."

Regina stood and walked to the headboard of Emma's bed where the dream catcher had been hung. She slipped her fingers behind the ornament and regarded it for a moment. The leather netting around the perimeter of the circle glowed a golden yellow color while the center seemed to swirl with iridescent colors.

Emma sat up on her knees on the mattress to get a better look. "What is all that?"

"Your dreams." Regina's fingertips trailed over the shimmery circle. "It appears you have quite the active imagination, Miss Swan."

"Wow. All of this came out of my head?"

"It would appear so."

Emma squinted her eyes. "I hope there's nothing embarrassing or incriminating in there."

Regina smirked knowingly. "Not keen on letting me know what your overactive imagination does at night?"

Emma cleared her throat. "So, uh, what now?"

"This is just a temporary solution. I'll work with Gold to find something more permanent." Regina sighed. "It would be so much easier if I could just take out your heart and see what was going on in there, but I suppose if my mother couldn't do it then there's no way for me to do it either."

Emma swallowed hard at the thought. "What would that accomplish? Taking my heart?"

"We could see if there's any imperfections—any cracks that my mother might be able to use to have you do her will."

Emma shuddered at the thought. It seemed very zombie-ish to have someone else controlling her movements or even her thoughts. She almost wished she could pull out her heart herself and take a look.

She continued to stare at the glowing dream catcher. "So what's in there?"

Regina chewed on her lower lip. Emma thought the action made her look young and almost innocent. "Another memory from my stellar example of an ideal childhood, I'm sure."

Emma looked away from the dream catcher and met Regina's caramel-colored eyes. "Will you show me?"

Regina's breath caught in her throat. "I-I don't know if I want to."

"Why not?"

"Because it may not be something I'd like to re-live, Miss Swan." Regina's voice slightly hardened, but the edge was noticeable.

"I'm sorry," Emma quickly apologized. "I wasn't thinking. That was selfish of me to ask."

"You should probably go back to sleep, Miss Swan," Regina sighed. "I'm sure you've barely had the equivalent of a nap over the past few days."

Emma frowned. "But I want to make you breakfast."

"Your refrigerator is practically empty, dear."

"I know." She'd been meaning to go grocery shopping for days, but she'd been too busy with work and avoiding sleep to take time out for the mundane chore.

"What about breakfast at Granny's?" Emma proposed. "I'm sure she could make you an egg-white omelet if you're worried about calories."

"I should really be going. I have to go home and shower. Our newly-elected mayor wants to have an audience with me about budgets."

"I've got a shower," Emma grinned. "Hot water and everything."

Regina smiled mildly in return. "I'm sure you do. But I certainly can't go to City Hall in the clothes I wore yesterday."

"You really think anyone would notice?"

" _I_ would notice, Miss Swan. And when I'm in my meeting with Dr. Hopper today, I'd like to feel at my best, not like I just stumbled out of your bed."

Emma held up her hands. "Okay, you win. You present a very persuasive argument, Madame Mayor."

"It's just Regina now, dear," the brunette said softly.

"Well, you'll always be Mayor Mills to me," Emma returned with equally quiet volume.

Regina leaned forward and Emma did the same until their lips met. Emma swabbed her tongue against Regina's lower lip, but the former mayor sighed and pulled back.

"What's wrong?" Emma covered her mouth with one hand. "Do I have morning breath?"

Regina stood up and tugged at the bottom hemline of her knee-length skirt to straighten the lines of the material. "No. But you're quickly becoming my Number One indulgence, Miss Swan. And I don't know how to feel about that."

\+ + +

Emma lay on top of the covers on her bed, stripped down to running shorts and a black tank top. It was damnably hot in the apartment. All the windows that could open were open, but no air would circulate in her bedroom. Her face felt like it was covered in a fine layer of grease even though she'd showered just after Regina had left a few hours earlier, and her back felt like it was on fire simply from having contact with the bed beneath her. She scratched at a mosquito bite on her upper arm. She was never going to get back to sleep.

She stared up at the dream catcher that still hung above her headboard. It continued to glow a golden hue. The shimmery material in its center seemed to taunt her and her piqued curiosity. Which of Regina's memories was trapped inside of it, she wondered. She'd need magic to unlock the dream, but she'd need either Gold or Regina's help to do that.

Emma reached out for the dream catcher, but her fingers stopped just before they could brush against its soft leather exterior. Regina had asked her not to look, she reminded herself. It would be a violation of that fragile trust if she released the memory without Regina's consent. But it was so hard to do the Right Thing and to be the Good Guy all the time.

With a dramatic sigh, Emma rose out of bed and made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and finish getting ready for the day. Mary Margaret would be bringing Henry back soon and it wouldn't do for her to still be lounging around in bed like a teenager.

Emma pulled her long hair out of the way and twisted it over one shoulder. She leaned down and spit out the wasted toothpaste. When she righted herself again, she gaped at her reflection in the vanity mirror centered over the bathroom sink.

"Fucking, eh," she grumbled. She leaned closer to the mirror. A giant purple and red bruise stared back at her near the space where her neck met her shoulder.

"Fucking Regina." She flung her long hair back over her shoulder, hiding the fresh love bite. Twenty-eight years old with a hickie. Awesome.

The sound of a key in the front door's lock pulled her attention away from her reflection. Henry's loud, nearly teenaged boy feet stomped into the open floor plan of the living room and kitchen with Mary Margaret following behind.

On her way to the living room, Emma grabbed a scarf from her bedroom and wrapped it around her neck to cover up the evidence of the previous night's less-than innocent activities with Storybrooke's former mayor.

"Hey guys," Emma greeted as she walked into the room.

"Hey, Emma!" Henry beamed as only he could. It was like his smile was too big for his face. Emma hoped he never grew out of that. His exuberance never failed to warm her.

"What'd you guys do last night?" she asked. "Did you have fun?"

Henry bounced in place like a coiled spring waiting to be set free. "We made s'mores in the microwave. And Grandpa said he'd take me camping so we could make real ones over a fire once it gets warmer outside."

Emma's lips twisted and she rose an eyebrow at her mother. "You know Regina doesn't approve of all that sugar, especially not before bed."

Mary Margaret smiled placidly. "We're his grandparents. We're allowed to spoil him."

"I guess." She hoped Henry would have the sense not to tell Regina about the marshmallows and chocolate. She really could go without another nutrition lecture from her son's adopted mother.

Mary Margaret's nose wrinkled, and she fanned at her face. "What's with the heat wave?"

Emma scratched at the back of her neck. "Yeah. I'll have to call the property manager about that overactive radiator. It's like a sauna in here."

"Why are you wearing a scarf?" Henry asked. "Aren't you hot?" He tilted his head to the side and regarded his birth mother as though he'd just noticed she had a third eye in the center of her forehead.

Emma self-consciously touched her fingers to the hollow of her throat, just above the scarf. "Uh, it's fashionable?"

"Girls are weird." Henry shrugged and took off in the direction of his bedroom.

Mary Margaret poked at a wilted spider plant that sat atop the radiator. "You know you have to water these things, right?"

Emma sighed. Another thing grownups were supposed to be good at. "Just leave it."

"That's plant genocide," Mary Margaret lightly teased.

"I told her I was no good at keeping those things alive."

"Told who?"

Emma stiffened when she realized the slip. "Oh, uh…Regina."

"Regina gave you a plant?" Mary Margaret's features crumpled in concern, and she took a large step away from the suffering spider plant. "Are you sure it's not poisoned?"

"That's not very nice, Mary Margaret."

"Maybe not," the pixie-haired brunette admitted with a curt bob of her head, "but you have to admit, isn't it a little out of character for her to be bringing you presents?"

Emma chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Maybe she just wanted to make the place feel more like a home. You know, for Henry."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

Mary Margaret gave her daughter a small smile. "After everything you've been through—because of her—and yet you're still defending her."

Mary Margaret knew something was off with Emma lately. She couldn't ignore the dark circles under her eyes or pretend she hadn't noticed how restless the blonde woman had seemed lately. She glanced again in the direction of the sad spider plant, wilting and struggling to thrive in this environment, very much like her own daughter. But, she knew if she pushed Emma too hard to share what was really going on that Emma would only push her away in return. It was moments like this when Snow wished she was still just Emma's friend and not her mother. Emma told things to Mary Margaret Blanchard; she wasn't as forthcoming, however, with Snow White.

"I know I should be eternally pissed off at her for separating our family and destroying the Enchanted Forest," Emma started, "but I don't know the woman who did that. This Evil Queen that you speak of? I've never met her. When I look at Regina, I see … Storybrooke's bitchy mayor, but I also see the woman who raised my son when I couldn't." Emma absently touched at the scarf. She could almost feel the phantom scrape of Regina's teeth against the tender flesh of her neck, and she visibly shuddered.

\+ + +

Emma walked down Main Street with an extra bounce to her step. She felt refreshed and re-invigorated thanks to the dream catcher. She hadn't slept so soundly in recent memory.

The familiar tapping of a cane striking against concrete alerted her. She saw Mr. Gold leaving the Storybrooke Public Library with a rare smile on his face.

"Hey, Gold!"

The pawnshop owner turned on the heels of his expensive Italian shoes. "Yes, Miss Swan?"

"I suppose I owe you another favor?" Emma shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her leather jacket.

"Whatever for, dearie?"

"Oh, cut the crap, Gold," Emma scowled. "You don't have to pretend you're not helping me. It's not going to tarnish your reputation of being an asshole."

Gold's smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "As much as I'd like to take credit for whatever it is that you're accusing me of, I've done no such thing, Miss Swan."

Emma's eyebrows pinched together. "Regina never came to you about my bad dreams and their connection to her mother?"

"I haven't seen or talked to our disposed Mayor since she ingested that death curse that was meant for you and Snow White." Gold's face was emotionless, but Emma could still tell he was telling the truth.

How she'd missed the lie on Regina's face, however, was only too obvious. She hadn't wanted to see it there.

\+ + + 

Emma stood in front of the Mills' manor on Mifflin Street and stared up at Regina's house. The curtains were all drawn, even those on the second floor, but Regina's black Mercedes was parked out front in the circular driveway.

She strode up the concrete walkway, leather boots clicking on the sidewalk until she stood on Regina's front stoop. When she knocked on the door it took only a moment for the former Mayor to answer.

"Sheriff Swan. This is an unexpected surprise."

"I ran into Gold today."

Something flickered across Regina's features. Panic? Worry? But the emotion was gone almost as immediately as Emma had noticed it. "How unpleasant for you, dear. I'm sorry."

Emma stood her ground. "He told me he hasn't seen you since the incident at the wishing well, and that he didn't give you that dream catcher."

The pleasant smile fell from Regina's face. Her shoulders straightened, and she folded her arms across her chest. "So I guess you're not here to ask me out on a date."

Emma didn't know if it was Regina's words or the way that she was looking at her, but she felt something break. She felt it in her stomach first, a kind of nauseous rumble, but then it spread and intensified in feeling.

"Will you come in?" Regina took a step backwards.

Emma nodded, unable to form words because of the lump in her throat. She kicked off her shoes without being told to and followed Regina back to the kitchen.

"Sit." Regina's words were gentle, but forceful.

Emma didn't have the energy to put up a fight. She sat on a stool at the kitchen island and propped her head in her hands, elbows resting on the countertop.

Regina opened her refrigerator and retrieved deli meats, sliced cheese, and mayonnaise. "Have you eaten today, Sheriff?"

"What are you doing?" Emma asked.

"Making you a sandwich."

"You don't have to do that."

Regina opened a bag of baked chips and poured some on the plate beside the sandwich. "I wanted to though."

Emma stood from her perch and ambled to the other side of the kitchen. Regina was busy packing things up and returning them to their places in the cabinets and refrigerator, but Emma stopped her movements. "Tell me the truth, Regina."

Regina's shoulders sagged. "My mother's not the one who's been implanting memories into your dreams, Emma. _I am_."

* * *

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"When you told me you’d run into my mother in the Enchanted Forest, I saw an opportunity. And I took it."

Emma blinked in disbelief. "So you made it all up. Everything: the dream catcher, the story about your mother trying to get to Storybrooke through me. It was all a lie?"

Regina's lips pressed together, and she nodded.

"But…but why?"

"Isn't that what Evil Queens do?" 

“You’re not the Evil Queen anymore, Regina.”

“And yet my actions seem to indicate otherwise.” She slipped her hands beneath the collar of Emma’s leather jacket until her fingers curled around the worn material. “Come on, Savior. Save me,” she breathed. 

“R-Regina.” Emma struggled on the name. She could feel the older woman’s hold tighten.

“Isn’t that your job, Sheriff? Isn’t this what you Charmings do best?” Her caramel-colored eyes flashed. 

Regina’s mouth was unforgiving, and Emma tried not to think about the motive behind the kiss. She tugged Emma’s lower lip between her top and bottom rows of teeth, and she bit down. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but it would be swollen and tender later. 

Emma’s knees wobbled while Regina pulled her towards the closest piece of furniture—an overstuffed chair.

Regina shrugged out of the three-quarter length suit jacket. Emma reflexively reached for the top button of Regina’s black, silky shirt, but her fingers wrapped around Emma’s wrists to stop her. Regina’s mouth never left Emma’s, and she yanked the blonde’s arms down and pinned them at her sides. Regina’s strength surprised Emma as she found herself being shoved backwards until she fell into the easy chair. 

Regina stepped out of her high-heeled shoes and reached for the hidden zipper of her form-fitting skirt. The material clung to her like a second skin; it was so tight, Emma didn’t know how she could maneuver in it. The zipper went south and the skirt fell down Regina’s thighs and long legs to pool at her ankles in an expensive heap. She sidestepped the circled material and left it on the floor with her heels. Now free of the skirt and suit jacket, she stood in Emma’s living room in only a black blouse whose length obscured Emma’s view of her underwear. The blonde’s eyes traveled the length of Regina’s legs from her bare ankles up to her slightly parted thighs. The shirt presented the only barrier to what she wanted to see most.

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat when Regina came to settle on her lap. Her thighs straddled the Savior’s, leaving the former mayor’s legs deliciously open. The bottom hem of Regina’s shirt crawled up her thighs to reveal a glimpse of dark purple underwear. Emma had dreamed of this exact scenario, only in the front seat of the police car. She knew what was expected. 

Emma reached between their bodies. Her fingertips brushed against silk as she slipped Regina’s panties to the side.

“No.”

Emma looked up and caught Regina’s fiery gaze. She recognized the cold, angry emotion splashed across her face—it was how Regina looked at everything and everyone in this town except for Henry. It hurt Emma to see that hardened mask had returned and to know that she was partially responsible. 

Regina grabbed the lapel of the red leather jacket and jerked it open at the neck. The movement caused the material encasing Emma’s arms to seize, effectively restricting the movement of her limbs. Emma realized that Regina could do whatever she wanted, and she would be powerless to stop it. 

Regina eased up on the jacket and the tension abated, but her visage remained stoical. She dipped her head and jet-black hair fell across her face. Emma ached to brush it behind her ear, but she worried Regina would only slap her hand away. 

Regina’s lips ghosted against the side of Emma’s neck, and the blonde tensed when she felt the familiar scrape of teeth against her pulse point. They’d done this before, too, and she remembered how it turned out. But Regina’s touch remained soft, and her lips fluttered lightly against Emma’s skin. The Savior let out a deep, tension-filled breath and relaxed further into the chair. 

A hand wiggled beneath Emma’s T-shirt, and Regina lightly raked her fingers down Emma’s abdomen. That same hand cupped her breast over the bra. The dark-haired woman squeezed, her touch remaining firm but light. Emma clenched onto the tops of Regina’s thighs and the movement beneath her T-shirt immediately stilled. Regina’s eyes narrowed in warning until Emma released her toned flesh. With nothing else to cling to, Emma curled her fingers around the arms of the chair. She had a gorgeous, half-naked woman straddling her lap, and apparently she wasn’t supposed to do anything about it. 

Regina slowly slid down Emma’s body until she was on her knees in front of the stuffed chair. Emma swallowed hard under the former queen’s predatory stare. Regina ran her palms up the outside of Emma legs, across the tops of her thighs, and up the inner flesh. The tips of her fingers curled beneath the waistband of the Sheriff’s jeans, and Emma chewed on her lower lip in anticipation. 

The button of her jeans was popped, and it felt like the air was sucked out of the room. The zipper followed and Emma’s hips canted up so Regina could pull her tight jeans down her hips and thighs. She did it without thinking and without questioning why any of this was happening. 

Regina tapped her fingertips against the inside of Emma’s thighs, and the blonde spread her legs farther apart. “Good girl,” she hummed. She never spoke much when they had sex, but when she did, Emma could feel her words like an electric prong to her body. 

Regina’s hands were dry and warm against the vulnerable flesh of Emma’s inner thighs. She leaned forward and pressed soft kisses against the other woman, starting at the insides of her knees, and slowly working her way up. Emma’s legs quivered as Regina blazed a wet trail closer to her sex. 

Emma clenched the arms of the easy chair to resist raking her fingers through Regina’s soft hair. Everything about this exchange told her she could look but not touch. 

Regina’s hands rested lightly on the tops of Emma’s thighs. She brushed the pad of her thumb over Emma’s underwear, focusing dedicated pressure on her clit. Emma’s hips jerked at the touch, and Regina’s generous mouth curled up on one side in a mischievous smirk. 

Emma sucked in a sharp breath when Regina leaned forward and her tongue brushed her clit over her underwear. Regina’s teasing was torturous. She was gorgeous. She was perfect. But Emma didn’t know if she could continue because of the cloud hanging over them. The easy decision was to tangle her fingers in Regina’s dark hair and hold her where she needed her the most; that’s what her selfish body wanted, at least. Her brain said otherwise. 

“Regina,” Emma managed to gurgle out. 

Regina’s dark eyes flicked to Emma’s face, but her mouth latched onto her clit over the underwear. Emma felt a finger press into her through the cotton material.

“Oh, God.”

Regina wasn’t playing fair. 

Emma curled her fingers around Regina’s left shoulder. “We should talk,” she somehow managed to pant. She dug her fingernails into Regina’s blouse when she swiped her clit again with the flat of her tongue.

Regina’s eyes fluttered closed. “We will,” she said thickly. “Later.” Her finger pressed more firmly against Emma. The blonde thought she might tear through her underwear. 

If Emma had been able to construct a continued complaint, it was erased when Regina’s fingers curled under the waistband of her underwear and she began to drag the garment south. The underwear briefly stuck between her thighs, her body's final show of resistance, before Regina slid the cotton undergarment down Emma’s thighs and past her knees to fall at her ankles. She removed Emma’s underwear completely and tossed them out of reach. 

Regina leaned back. “I suppose you’re right. Do you still want to talk?” She looked unfathomably dignified for being on her knees.

Emma sat up in the chair. “Later.”

Her response seemed to surprise the other woman. 

Emma shot her arms forward and curled them under Regina’s armpits. A surprised noise escaped the older woman’s throat as Emma’s inertia had her tumbling backwards. It was inelegant and Regina’s tailbone struck the floor as Emma scrambled to top her. The blonde’s mouth covered Regina’s before she could voice a complaint. 

Emma hesitated for only a moment, worried she’d been too rough, until she felt Regina’s lips pushing up to meet her and the brunette’s hands wrapping around her biceps. 

Emma tore off her jacket, glad to finally be free of the garment. Regina’s hands fisted the material of the Sheriff’s shirt and then tugged at the bottom hem. Emma stopped kissing the other woman just long enough to dip her head so Regina could pull the shirt over her head. It joined the rest of Emma’s clothes on the floor. 

Emma held herself up in a frozen pushup. The wood floor felt gritty against her palms, and she grimaced at the thought of what Regina must be feeling on the backs of her thighs. Emma wasn’t much of a housekeeper, but in her defense, she hadn’t anticipated any of this. 

“We should go to my bedroom.”

Regina canted her hips up and ground into Emma’s sex. “No.”

+++

Emma didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep. One minute she was between Regina’s thighs, and the next, she was waking up alone in her bed. The sheets were cool to the touch in the space where Regina should have been. Emma rolled onto the empty space beside her and was rewarded with the scent of Regina’s light perfume.

The clock on her phone told her it was night. The clothes I’d worn that day were folded and sat in a tidy pile on a bench at the end of the bed. The sight made Emma frown. Regina really needed to relax. 

+++

“I thought you didn’t eat that junk.” Emma found Regina at the harbor, eating a hot dog and staring out at the ocean. 

Regina didn’t look away from the water. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin pulled from a pocket in her trench coat. “How did you find me so quickly?”

“It’s my job to find people,” Emma said, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her leather jacket. “But maybe a better question is what are you doing out here?”

"It's my favorite place in town." Regina paused. "It might be my favorite place anywhere."

Emma gingerly sat down on the pier beside Regina. She didn't trust that her added weight wouldn't sink them into the harbor. The boards creaked and groaned, but the old wood didn't fail. Small birds or bats, she couldn't tell which, swooped low over the lake, picking off insects as they flew. They flew so close to the water that their bodies bounced off the top of the water's surface. 

“Are you cold?” Emma asked.

“No. I’m fine.”

Emma shrugged out of her red leather jacket and laid it over Regina’s erect shoulders. 

“I’m really fine.”

“Just take the jacket, Regina.”

Regina ended her protest. She pulled the jacket closer and tighter around her body.  
Far away from the light pollution of any major city, the night sky was sprayed with distant stars and galaxies. 

Emma rested her weight on her palms and looked up. "Do you know any of the constellations?" She didn’t know if those types of details transcended realms and realities or if it was just the kind of thing they taught kids in this world.

Regina breathed out. "Just a few major ones: the Little Dipper, Orion's Belt, Casseopia, Andromeda."

"Andromeda? I don't think I know that one."

"It's my favorite."

"Will you tell me about it?"

Regina fluttered a small smile in Emma’s direction. "Andromeda was Casseopia's daughter. Casseopia boasted that Andromeda was more beautiful than the Nereids. As punishment, Poseidon sent a sea monster to ravage the shoreline of the family's kingdom. Andromeda was chained to a rock as sacrifice to appease Poseidon. She was rescued by Perseus before she was killed."

"That's your favorite constellation? It's … a little heavy."

"I know. But a part of me relates to her."

Emma rubbed at her arms absently. 

“Now you’re cold,” Regina frowned, noticing the action.

“I’m fine.”

“Why did you do it?” Emma asked. “Why did you implant your memories into my head?”

Regina sighed, letting all the air out of her lungs. Her body looked deflated. “I thought that maybe if you saw what had happened to me in my youth that you’d …”

“Feel sorry for you?” Emma guessed.

“Let me spend more time with Henry,” Regina corrected.

Emma didn’t want to admit to herself that Regina’s answer stung. “So this was all for Henry?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Regina stared straight ahead purposefully. She finished the last bite of the hot dog and daintily brushed the crumbs from her thighs, destroying the remaining evidence of her dietary discretions. 

“No. I guess not.”

Regina made a sound in the back of her throat. "I've come to a decision. I’m going to leave."

“Leave?” Emma echoed. 

“Yes. Storybrooke.”

"But you can't!" Emma protested. "The town line! You'll lose all your memories."

"The town line only affects people who were under Rumple’s curse. I never had an alter ego—you, Henry, me—we can all come and go as we please without our memories being affected."

Emma drew in a sharp breath. "So this entire time—you could have left. Why did you stay? Even after the curse was broken?"

"Pride. The need for vengeance.” Regina's mouth lowered into a frown. “Henry."

"And now? What’s changed?"

"I don't really have a chance at getting my son back. He's with his mother—his family."

Emma shook her head hard. "You have just as much of a right to be his mother, Regina."

"I've made up my mind, Miss Swan.” Regina’s tone took on a hardened tone that dared Emma to defy her. “I can't stay. Maybe I'll finally get my happy ending when I can put Storybrooke and its residents in my rearview mirror."

Emma worried her bottom lip. "But what about ... what about me?"

Regina twisted at the waist and cupped the blonde's cheek in her palm. "I truly am sorry." She went quiet for a moment and she stroked her thumb along Emma’s squared jaw. “Good luck, Miss Swan. I wish you all the best.”

++++

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hey guys, just a short update this time; I’m putting the finishing edits on a new original novel, due out in early November, so that’s been monopolizing my time lately. But I haven’t forgotten about these two! Thanks for your continued support!

Chapter 11

It had been a week since Regina had left Storybrooke. One day she was a regular fixture at Granny's diner, and the next she was gone. There had been no fanfare, no dramatic goodbyes or going-away parties; she'd simply disappeared. The only evidence that she had really left was an envelope with Henry's name written on the outside in Regina's distinct cursive and the dark and silent mansion at 108 Mifflin Street.

The envelope had been slipped under Emma's apartment door while she and Henry slept. Emma had been the one who'd discovered it, having woken up before her son—or rather having never really fallen asleep in the first place. Her curiosity urged her to open the thick greeting card-shaped envelope, but she'd handed it straight to Henry. Whatever was inside was between her son and Regina. 

Now that the nightmares had stopped, she should have been sleeping through the night. But instead, she found herself lying on her back, night after night, staring up at the space above her head, and drumming her fingers against her ribcage. If she had been honest with herself, her reluctance to sleep had everything to do with the former mayor. But instead of dreaming about Regina’s past, she worried she might remember instead what it had been like to kiss and hold and caress the other woman. 

The first week without Regina passed with little notice, but as the second week came to a close with still no word from the former mayor, Emma began to grow angry. She knew Regina rarely thought of others, but she'd always put Henry first, even above her often self-serving deeds. This abandonment didn't sit well with Emma. 

Henry, for his part, had said little about his adoptive mother's departure. He hadn't shared what had been inside that envelope, but Emma was trying to respect his privacy. Emma thought he’d been handling everything very well, but he'd also been getting the full grandparent treatment—Mary Margaret made sure he got a home-cooked dinner if Emma had to work late, and David was teaching him everything a young prince was supposed to know, like horseback riding and sword play. Amongst all that excitement, there was little time to miss the woman who had raised you, Emma supposed.

When the second week went by with still no letter or phone call or e-mail or text message from Regina, the object of Emma's anger changed. Her confusion and dismay about what Regina had done still affected her, but now she was also frustrated with her son and the rest of Storybrooke's oblivious residents. Regina was gone; why was she the only one who seemed to care?

Henry came home from his riding lessons with David stinking like a barn.

"Kid,” Emma sighed, “we need to talk about hygiene." She stared at the muddy riding boots he'd discarded near the front door. Or at least she hoped it was mud. "And picking up after yourself."

Henry's head was buried in the refrigerator. Emma had been doing a better job of keeping the pantry stocked now that she was responsible for Henry's nutrition. Grocery shopping had become an even more loathsome chore than before. It reminded her too much of Regina. Every carrot, every head of lettuce, but especially every apple that went into the grocery cart brought to mind lectures she’d endured from Regina about their son’s nutrition and Emma’s lack there of. 

"I'll take care of it," Henry promised as he rooted around the refrigerator for a snack.

"Just like how you took care of the wet towels on the bathroom floor this morning?"

Henry shut the refrigerator door, having come up empty. "Sorry. I'll remember to hang them up next time."

Emma exhaled deeply to check her emotions. She could hear herself becoming a nag, but she didn't know how to stop. She had no one to talk to about being a mother. None of her friends in Storybrooke had kids, and her own mother had never been a mother either. The only person she knew with any parental experience was currently the one person she couldn't find.

"It's okay, kid. Just remember that we're a team. And we both have to do our part to make the team run smoothly."

Henry ducked his head. "Yeah, I get it."

"Homework?"

"Mmhm,” he nodded. “I'll get started on that now."

"Good boy," Emma smiled and brushed hair away from his forehead. "I'll see about making dinner."

A pot of water was on the stovetop, waiting to boil pasta, and the vegetable steamer was working on broccoli. Emma snagged the laundry basket and the stack of neatly folded clothes still waiting to be put away. She thought about asking Henry to put the laundry away for her—all in the name of teamwork—but he already had his textbooks laid out on the kitchen table and was fully immersed in his homework.

She lugged the mountain of clothes into Henry’s bedroom; she had no idea how a kid could get so many clothes so dirty, so fast. She pulled out the top drawer of the wooden clothes dresser. On top of a pile of tube socks was Regina’s letter. Emma worried her lip as she stared at the cream-colored paper. She'd nearly exhausted her few remaining resources trying to track down Regina's whereabouts. She had a few old friends in the Boston police department who might be able to help, but she'd been holding off on those favors as a last resort. 

She reached into the top drawer and retrieved the envelope. Maybe Regina mentioned in the letter where she was going, or maybe she had left Henry with an address or a phone number where she could be reached. Emma toyed with indecision and the triangle fold on the envelope. She frowned, however, when she realized the letter was still sealed.

"Henry?"

"Yeah, mom?" he called from the kitchen table.

Emma chewed on her lower lip. She didn't know if she should ask him. "Did you read that letter from Regina yet?"

No response came. Emma left Henry's room with the wicker laundry basket still in tote. "Did you hear me?" she asked when she returned to the main room.

"Yeah."

“Well?” Emma waved the envelope. “Did you read this yet?”

Henry frowned. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

Emma’s frown matched her son’s. “Henry…”

The boy jumped up from the table and hit clenched fists on its surface. “What could she possibly say to me that would make this any better?”

“I…I don’t know kid.” She hadn’t expected that kind of outburst. She passed him the letter, hands slightly shaking. “But maybe it’s time you found out.”

\+ + +

Emma held her breath as the phone rang. Pick up, pick up, pick up she silently chanted.

“Hello?”

Emma gripped the phone tighter. “Regina?” There was a pregnant pause on the other end. “Don’t hang up, okay?” 

"How did you get this number?" the dark-haired woman coolly shot.

"I've told you before, it's my job to find people." Or Regina had included her new cell phone number in Henry’s letter; Emma just didn’t want the other woman knowing she’d read its contents. She and Henry had gone over the letter together after she’d confronted him about not having read it yet.

"Maybe you should spend your time looking for people who want to be caught, Miss Swan. It seems like a more productive use of your time."

"We need to work something out—for Henry. If you love him, Regina, you'll do this.”

"Of course I love Henry," Regina snapped. "He's the whole reason I left Storybrooke—the town I created and was mayor of for 28 years.”

"That's funny,” Emma snorted. “Because from where I'm standing, it looks a whole lot like you left Storybrooke for yourself. Things got too hard, so you bailed."

"I did no such thing.”

"The unselfish thing would have been to stay, Regina. It might have been the harder thing to do,” Emma noted, “but Henry would still have had both of his moms."

"He doesn't need me anymore. He's made that perfectly clear."

"The kid hasn't even hit puberty yet,” Emma grunted out. “He doesn't have a clue what he wants or who he'll need when he gets older."

"And yet you seem to hold some prophetic power that allows you to see all of this?" Regina huffed.

"I was Henry, Regina. Don't let him think you've abandoned him."

Regina audibly gasped. "I didn't...I never..." That was the last thing she'd wanted for Henry. She'd honestly only wanted to do what she thought was best for him. She'd been doing that—or at least thought she'd been doing that—ever since he'd come into her life a decade ago.

"I'm an expert at running from one's troubles." Emma's voice was low and soothing rather than sharp and judgmental. It surprised even herself. "I recognize it when I see it."

"I-I can't come back."

"Can't or won't?" Emma asked. She still wasn't clear on how magic and the town border worked.

"If I come back, I'm afraid there will be too many triggers and temptations to turn into her."

"The Evil Queen," Emma guessed.

"Yes. Henry was right, Emma. I need to be without magic. And I really can't stomach seeing all of those faces from the Enchanted Forest every day, especially your parents."

“We have to figure something out. You can’t not be a part of Henry’s life.” Or mine, she silently added.

Regina let out a quiet sigh. “I’m in New York,” she reluctantly revealed. “Why don’t you and Henry come for a visit?”

\+ + +

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

it's been fun reading your reactions to this story—some of you are angry with Regina while others are angry with Emma and Henry. But everyone's angry, which means I must be doing something right.

+++

Henry vibrated with energy in the back of the New York City yellow cab. He craned his neck this way and that, not wanting to miss a thing, as the vehicle serpentined around the chaotic busy streets. "Are you and Mom going to work out some kind of joint custody arrangement like divorced parents do?" he asked. "Like, I can stay with her in New York for a chunk of time and then I'm back in Storybrooke with you?"

"Woah, kid. Slow down," Emma urged. "Let's just get through today first."

Henry returned to pressing his nose against the back passenger windows. "Do you think we can see the Empire State Building from my mom's new place?"

“I guess we’ll soon find out.”

Emma stared out her own window, pushing down a wave of nausea. She blamed it on the weaving motion of the taxi, but she knew it was more than simply car sickness. She didn't know how she was going to react to seeing Regina again. Emma had tried being mad at her, but she just couldn’t do it. She didn't know how to be angry, now that she knew all Regina had been through—witnessing every terrible thing Cora had done that had created the Evil Queen. Emma had always felt sorry for herself for growing up without a mom. But living through Regina's adolescence via her nightmares had almost made her feel lucky for not having one.

Their cab rolled to a stop in front of a steel and glass skyscraper. Emma stared out at the modern, sterile building and referenced the address Regina had given her. For the time, Regina was staying at hotel in Manhattan meant for business people on extended stays to the city. Looking up at the building, Emma thought it was a far cry from the mansion on Mifflin Street. 

They had to sign in when they arrived at the extended-stay hotel and the concierge had called Regina's room to confirm she was expecting them. If Emma had come by herself she had no doubt that Regina might have turned her away even though she'd traveled this far. But she knew that regardless of what had transpired between them, Regina would put up with just about anything for the opportunity to see her son.

The details of the trip had felt like a vacation up to this point: crossing the town line in Emma's yellow Bug, Henry's first time on an airplane, the taxi ride across the George Washington Bridge into Manhattan. But now both Henry and Emma were silent as the elevator ascended to the thirty-second floor.

"Is it my fault?" Henry's voice cracked on the final syllables.

"Is what your fault?"

"Why she left Storybrooke. Is it because of me?"

Emma felt her heart twist. "Henry, of course not. If anything, you're the reason she stayed for as long as she did."

"Then why did she do it?"

The elevator doors opened and Emma sucked in a deep breath. "Let's go ask her."

+++

Regina's face revealed no emotion until she saw her son. Her chin quivered and she just barely managed a watery whisper of his name. Henry tucked his head into her chest and threw his arms around her.

Emma stood as an awkward bystander to the reunion. She had been so distracted by how she would react to seeing Regina again and outside of Storybrooke, she hadn't thought about what this moment would be like for adoptive mother and son. It had only been a few weeks, but she was sure it had probably felt much longer to the other woman.

Regina held Henry at arm's length. Her dark eyes shimmered with precariously restrained tears. "Did you get taller?"

Henry ducked his head. "I don't think so."

"Hi." Emma needed to say something. She needed Regina to acknowledge her presence.

Regina's gaze left her son's face to fall on Emma. "Hello, Miss Swan." She swallowed, and with the motion, she seemed to reign in the emotions that had been visible for all to see. "Why don't you both come in."

The condo-like hotel room was understated, but not drab. The front door opened into a small kitchen space, an eating nook for two, and a living room with an impressive wall-to-ceiling view of downtown. The high-end finishes and elegance of Regina's Storybrooke mansion were missing. The space was impersonal, Emma decided.

A timer buzzed and Regina grabbed a hot pad. The scent of baked pastry and cinnamon that had lightly perfumed the apartment exploded when she pulled apple turnovers out of the oven.

Regina set the baking sheet on the stovetop and turned off the oven. She wiped her hands on the front of her apron. "I hope you brought your appetite," she smiled.

It had been decided that Henry and Emma would stay with Regina during their long-weekend visit. Emma had originally balked at the idea of sharing a space, but Regina had insisted, and Emma had finally relented after she saw the price of hotel rooms in the area.

Emma and Henry sat down in the living room while Regina continued to busy herself in the kitchen. Regina was a planner—a plotter—and Emma had no doubt that she'd known the apple turnovers would break what was sure to be a tension-filled meeting.

Regina brought out forks and two plates, each with an oven fresh pastry on it. Glasses of skim milk followed. Henry immediately dug into his. Emma was slower to break into the turnover, but after the first few delicious bites, she too was devouring the pastry in earnest. She had never eaten one of Regina's apple turnovers and regretted it had taken so long for her to have the opportunity. It tasted so good, it might have been worth the sleeping curse the first time around.

Regina beamed as she watched her son devour the pastry with enthusiasm.

"So good, Mom," he approved between bites.

"Thank you, dear."

"Yeah, Regina," Emma felt compelled to chime in. "This is delicious."

Regina's smile tempered. "I'll have to send the recipe home with you. I'm sure Snow could manage to replicate it."

The pastry suddenly felt heavy in Emma's gut. She swallowed down another bite.

Regina kept her tone light and cheery. "So what would you like to do while you're here, Henry? I thought we might play tourist today."

The boy nodded vigorously. "So cool."

Emma chewed on her lower lip. "Shouldn't we...I don't know...talk first?"

Regina raked her fingers through her hair. "We will. But it's such a beautiful day. Let's not waste Henry's first trip to the city with such unpleasant things."

\+ + +

Two museums and a visit to Times Square later, Emma and Regina walked side by side down a concrete path in Central Park. Henry hurried ahead, still wide-eyed and excitedly taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city.

Emma shoved her hands into the pockets of her red leather jacket. She knew Regina hated the coat, but it was her safety blanket, especially around this woman. "How are you settling in?"

Regina’s steps never faltered, click-clacking on the concrete. "Fine."

"Why New York?"

"Why not?"

Emma shrugged. She wanted to have a real conversation, but Regina wasn't contributing. "What are you doing for money?"

"Let me worry about that, Miss Swan."

"Regina..."

The woman in question abruptly stopped. "I said we'd talk later, Miss Swan, and I meant that. For now, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me enjoy this day with my son."

Emma had a retort at the ready, but deciding against it, she bit down on her lower lip and sullenly nodded.

"Henry," Regina called out to the boy who was hovering near a man-made pond and admiring the miniature sailboats, "how would you like to have the best tasting pizza in all the worlds?"

His smile was infectious and even Emma felt lighter from its appearance. "Awesome!"

+++

Emma had to admit, it was damn good pizza. She sat on Regina's couch with a hand resting on her distended abdomen. There was pepperoni and cheese pizza crammed in every formerly empty space of her stomach.

"Your Mom and I have a lot to talk about, kid. Think you'll be okay on your own for a little while?"

Henry shoved a handful of microwave popcorn into his mouth. "Yeah. I'm just gonna watch TV. I think she gets HBO."

"Which you are not to watch at this hour, young man." Regina's high heels clicked into the room.

Emma’s body reacted in an almost Pavlov’s dog response to the sound of Regina’s heels clicking against the floor. The dampness collecting between her thighs from the click clack against the hard surface brought a grimace to her face. God, what had Regina done to her? 

She hopped up from the couch and ran her palms across the top of her thighs. "Where to?" she asked stiffly, rocking back on her heels. "I don't know this city."

"There's a martini bar down on the corner. It's quiet and no one will bother us." Regina pulled a long trench coat out of a narrow hallway closet. She pulled her hair out of the collar until it fell in perfectly styled waves around her face.

Emma raked her eyes over Regina and the cap-sleeved black dress she'd changed into after dinner. She suddenly felt underdressed in her skinny jeans and sweater.  
"You look really nice, by the way. I like your dress."

Regina's crimson-painted lips twisted. "Thank you, dear. But this isn't a date."

"I know that," Emma scowled. "I'm not allowed to give you a compliment?"

Regina ignored the question and instead called out more instructions to Henry before she left the apartment, hips swishing and Emma obediently following behind.

The martini bar was nearly empty at this hour. It was too late for the post-work Happy Hour crowd and too early for the Friday night crowd. A pianist played soft, melodic blues and bored cocktail waitresses huddled together and gossiped to pass the time. Regina claimed a table for two close to the glass plate windows that overlooked the streetscape out front. Emma scrutinized the narrow sheet of paper that served as a menu. She wasn't a martini drinker and had no idea what to order.

“Will you let me buy the first round?” she offered. She doubted Regina had found work in the city so quickly and despite Regina’s dismissal, she worried about the other woman’s finances. 

“That depends. Do you plan on dumping this one down my cleavage, too?”

At her words, Emma’s eyes drifted to said cleavage. Regina’s black dress dipped modestly in the front, but it revealed enough to keep the blonde woman’s attention. When Emma realized she was openly staring at Regina’s chest, she jerked her eyes away. But it was too late; the smirk on Regina’s mouth said she’d caught her.

A waitress sidled up to their table. “Good evening ladies.” She set two cocktail napkins on the table’s surface. “What can I get you?”

“Dirty martini,” Regina ordered. “Three olives.”

“Um. Beer,” Emma stumbled out unsophisticatedly.

“What kind?” the server asked.

“Surprise me?”

The waitress arched an eyebrow. “Sure thing.”

She returned a few, painfully silent minutes later.

“Dirty martini,” the cocktail waitress announced, setting Regina’s drink down in front of her. “And … a beer. Enjoy ladies.”

Emma flashed a smile in thanks and the waitress left to check on her other tables. 

Regina brought the funnel-shaped glass up to dark red lips. When she returned the drink to the table, her lipstick had left a stain on the glass’s edge.

“I don’t know how you can drink that stuff,” Emma said, making a face. “Martinis are pure alcohol, aren’t they?”

“And olives.” Regina speared one of the olives at the bottom of her glass with a toothpick and sucked the salty fruit into her mouth. Emma found her gaze drawn to the bee-stung lips, but it was better than her gawking at Regina’s perfect breasts. 

“I take it you’re not picky about your alcohol?” Regina said, nodding to the beer bottle Emma worried between idle hands.

“Not really,” Emma admitted. She fiddled with the bottle’s paper label, shredding and peeling it out of nervousness. "So let's talk. I think we've tiptoed around enough for one day."

"Or a lifetime," Regina sagely noted.

"Is this really your life now?” Emma pressed. “You live in New York? You're a New Yorker?"

"I haven't made my mind up yet about this city."

Emma chanced a smile. "It's not exactly Storybrooke, is it?"

Regina smiled a little sadly in return. "No. But that's the point."

"I understand, you know. Why you had to go." Emma continued to shred the paper label on her beer. "But that doesn't mean it's been easy. Not on Henry. And-and not on me."

Regina was silent as she ran an elegant finger along the rim of her funnel-shaped glass. "I've been thinking. Maybe you and Henry should move into my house. It's just sitting vacant. It would be a waste if no one took advantage of my absence."

"So that's it?" Emma blinked in disbelief. "You're really not coming back?"

"I don't plan on it."

"How do you expect to survive out here? You don't really exist in this world, Regina. Do you even have a social security number? What about a job? New York already has a mayor," she couldn't help pointing out.

Emma continued to get worked up, but Regina's features remained impassive. "I'll be fine, Miss Swan. The curse anticipated all of those things: social security numbers, college degrees, professional references. Don't forget I was able to adopt Henry in Boston based on those credentials."

Emma pressed her palms against her closed eyes until she saw white. "Fine." She shot out of her seat so quickly that she nearly toppled over the chair. “I guess we’re done talking about this.”

"Emma. Please understand where I'm coming from," Regina urged. "I'm trying to do what's best for everyone here. You can't tell me that Storybrooke is any worse off without me there. In fact, I'd venture to say that most people are more at ease now that the Evil Queen is gone."

"You're not the Evil Queen," Emma protested. "You're just Regina: Henry's mom, the former mayor, and a major pain in my ass."

Regina's dark eyelashes fluttered. "Language, Miss Swan."

"When will you see him? You can't expect me to bring him to New York like this all the time. I have a job and responsibilities. And I'm not going to let Henry come on his own even if he managed to navigate around Boston on his own."

"We'll play it by ear. I don't have all the answers yet."

\+ + +

The return walk to Regina's hotel complex was silent, save for the sounds of the city on a Friday night. They rode the elevator to the thirty-second floor without a shared word. Regina let them into her condo where Henry was passed out on the couch. On the neglected television, an infomercial argued that their product produced the whitest whites.

Emma brushed the hair away from her son's forehead. His eyes fluttered open and he gave her a sleepy smile. "Hey."

"Hey, kid. Let's get you to bed."

Regina's condo was spartan, but it had two bedrooms. Henry shuffled to the guest bedroom while Emma took over the couch.

Regina hovered in the living room after tucking Henry in. "Do you have everything you need?"

No. I'm pretty sure I need you. "I'm good." Emma tossed a pillow at the end of the couch.

Regina nodded and hugged herself. "There's extra blankets in the hallway closet if you get cold."

Or I could cuddle with you. "Great. Thanks."

Sleep never came for Emma. The city was quiet far below and the couch wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but her brain refused to shut down. She listened to the sounds coming from another apartment—footsteps paced back and forth above her, mimicking the restlessness inside her head. 

Emma threw the covers off her legs and climbed off of the couch. She stopped in the guest room to check on Henry first. He slept on his back with his mouth open and an arm thrown over his eyes. He seemed to be able to sleep anywhere and under whatever conditions.

The door to Regina's room was slightly ajar. Emma stood in front of it, listening for sounds coming from the other side. She pushed the door and it soundlessly opened.

Regina was sitting up in bed, another victim of a restless night. “Emma?” she turned toward the opening door and the woman standing in the doorway. “What’s wrong, dear? Is it Henry?”

“Henry’s fine. But you and I have some unfinished business, Madam Mayor.”

Regina pulled back the covers and patted the empty space beside her. “Maybe we can properly talk in here.”

Emma didn’t hesitate or need a second invitation. 

The mattress dipped and the crisp sheets rustled as Regina moved, wiggling and shifting to get comfortable. One hand rested lightly on Emma’s thigh and the other fisted in her defiant curls. Emma sucked in a sharp breath when Regina tugged her hair at its roots and her fingers curled around the tender flesh of Emma’s inner thigh. Regina had said they needed to talk, but apparently her hands didn’t agree. But then the fingers twisted in Emma’s hair relaxed, and Regina began to stroke the top of the Savior’s head as if trying to tame the chaotic mess in her brain.

“I know there’s still things that need to be said. But would it be okay if we just …” Emma flipped the ends of Regina’s dark hair through her fingers. She wasn’t sure how the other woman would react to her question.

“If we just what, dear?”

“Sleep?” Even though the nightmares had stopped with Regina’s absence, she still haven’t been able to sleep throughout the night.

“Of course.” 

Regina brushed her lips on a spot just below Emma’s earlobe, causing a shiver to ripple down the other woman’s spine. The simple action had the blonde reconsidering her request.

“Are you sure?” Emma asked.

Regina’s chuckle vibrated against her neck. “I must admit there’s other things we could do that I wouldn’t object to.”

Emma teased delicate underwear down Regina’s thighs. The material stuck to her skin, already damp with arousal. She was shaved everywhere except for a closely cropped landing strip. Emma stroked her fingers over smooth, naked skin and through short, coarse hair while Regina arched into the touch. 

Regina’s thighs pressed around Emma’s ears, muffling any outside noises. Emma brought her hand up to Regina’s concave stomach and their fingers joined. Touches that had once been greedy and forceful had now become languid and gentle. There was nothing rushed or desperate in this exchange. 

Emma lathed her tongue the length of Regina’s slit and felt her shudder. She arched off the bed, quiet words of praise and encouragement falling in Emma’s direction. Emma used her tongue to divide Regina’s slick heat, eager to taste more and make unchecked noises tumble from her slightly parted mouth. 

Emma held her lips open and suckled softly on her exposed clit. Regina’s heels thrummed against Emma’s bare back, and the blonde squeezed out the imagery of Regina digging the stilettoed heel of her shoes into her. 

Two fingers found their way inside of Regina, and Emma ground the heel of her palm into the brunette’s clit. Regina released another delicious, throaty groan as Emma pushed deeper inside.

“Right there,” Regina sighed. Her hips bucked into Emma’s mouth. “Stay right there.”

“Never leaving,” Emma murmured against the other woman’s skin.

Regina’s movements stilled, and Emma looked up at her achingly beautiful face. Her raven-black hair had fallen across her forehead. 

“But I did, Emma.” Her voice sounded rough. “I left.”

Emma wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Maybe we should just sleep.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Regina sighed dejectedly. “It’s probably not the reasonable or responsible thing that we keep doing this.”

It might not have been either of those things, but Emma didn’t want to stop.

“It isn’t fair,” Regina murmured. 

Emma lifted her head from the pillow with some difficulty. “What’s not?”

“You eat nothing but cheeseburgers and pizza.” She raked her nails down Emma’s torso, leaving pink, raised trails. “I so much as look at a carbohydrate, and I bloat up.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Emma slid her hand along the smooth expanse of Regina’s exposed thigh. “Your body is amazing.”

“Thank you, dear.” Regina smiled softly and tucked blonde sweeps of hair behind Emma’s ear. 

“You’ve done this before.”

Regina knew what Emma meant. Obviously they’d had sex before, but there had been other women.

“Yes.”

Emma rolled over onto her side and tucked her hands under a pillow. “Who? When? What was her name? What were their names?”

Regina’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “You ask a lot of questions.” It was too dark in her bedroom to interpret the expression in her eyes, so Emma couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or amused.

“It’s what makes me a good cop.”

“It was after I had the King killed,” she vaguely revealed. “Even an Evil Queen can miss the comfort of human touch. But there was no one of consequence.”

Emma tried to shove down the jealousy that bubbled just under the surface from Regina’s admission. She didn’t want to think about someone else touching Regina’s skin and making her back arch off the bed. She tried not to picture an anonymous woman kissing behind the raven-haired beauty’s knees or in the crook of her elbows. She didn’t want to mentally see a stranger’s mouth mapping Regina’s taut body and traveling the distance from her breasts to her belly button and below.

“Stop stewing, Sheriff.”

Emma cleared her throat. “Am I that obvious?” 

“Your face is an open book, dear.” Regina touched the side of Emma’s face and she stroked the pad of her thumb across the other woman’s cheekbone. “I bet you’re a terrible liar.”

Emma swallowed hard at the lump in her throat. Gods, she could fall hard for this woman. Even now, it was probably too late to put on the breaks. “The worst,” she croaked out.

Regina didn’t turn the question around to ask about Emma’s previous experiences. Maybe it didn’t matter to her, but it bothered Emma that she wasn’t as curious as she had been about her.

“Don’t you want to know about me?” The words felt needy and juvenile, like it was important to know she had the power to make Regina jealous as well.

“Not really.”

Emma didn’t know what to say to that.

“It’s your past that’s made you the woman you are today, Emma.” Another pass of her thumb across Emma’s cheek and she would melt into a gooey puddle. “But I’m more interested in the woman in my bed, not the girl she’d been before.”

“Good answer,” Emma said thickly.

Regina pulled her hand away, and Emma instantly missed the heat of her touch. “We should get some sleep.”

Emma wasn’t tired anymore. Every nerve ending in her body was ready for another round with this goddess. It was imperative she erase all traces of previous lovers. Emma slid her bottom lip out, ready to protest.

“We have an early morning. I promised Henry we’d go to Ellis Island.”

Emma tucked her lip back into place. “Okay.”

“Just sleep, Emma.” Regina smoothed down the other woman’s hair. “I’ll be right here.”

Emma shut her eyes and allowed herself to be soothed to sleep. 

Once upon a time, Neal had told her that you know you have a home because it’s the place you miss. You miss it when you’re gone. Emma closed her eyes even tighter to keep the tears at bay. She missed this. And she missed this woman. 

\+ + +

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks to everyone who continues to review and leave kudos! Reading your reactions to a particular line or chapter is the main reason I continue to write fan fiction

On another note, if you like my fan fiction, be sure to check out my original fiction. You can find summaries of all of my novels at my website, elizalentzski.com, including information about my newest novel, _Don't Call Me Hero_ —which, spoiler alert, was totally influenced by SwanQueen :D

* * *

 

**Chapter 13**

Emma slept so soundly that night, she forgot where she was in the morning. That hadn't happened in a long time. Forget the dream catcher; all she needed was Regina Mills. The woman in question was no longer beside her, and the sheets were cool to the touch on her side of the bed. Emma rolled onto the empty space beside her and was rewarded with the scent of Regina's light perfume.

The clock on the bedside table told her it was morning, but the curtains in the room had been drawn so that no sunlight would wake her.

Emma slipped into her clothes from the day before and pulled her tangled hair into a loose ponytail. The door to the en suite bathroom was slightly ajar, and she could see the warm glow of light peeking around the door's edges. She knocked softly on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response from the other side.

"God damn." The words slipped out of her mouth without filter.

Regina was leaning over the vanity sink and applying mascara to her already dramatic eyes. Emma raked her eyes up and down the former mayor's tantalizing body. Her skin was flawless; she looked too perfect for words in only a delicate lace bra and panty set. Standing on her tiptoes as she bent over the vanity to lean closer to the mirror, her calf muscles were even more defined than when she wore high heels. Her back arched, her shoulder muscles flexed with movement as she carefully applied makeup, and her lacy underwear perfectly hugged her backside. Emma bit her lip at a mental image of me ripping the light blue undergarments from her body.

Regina regarded her visitor via the mirror. A carefully manicured eyebrow rose on her forehead. "Do you need something, Sheriff?"

"More like need _someone_."

Emma knew she should have been more reserved or kept her emotions more in check, but the moment was too powerful, too intimate, to not step behind Regina and wrap her arms around her slender waist. Her hands seemed to naturally curl around Regina's hipbones.

Regina set her mascara tube on the vanity counter. "We have a very busy morning."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you can't distract me."

"Then maybe you should have put on clothes."

Emma dropped kisses on Regina's naked shoulders. She did what felt natural without second-guessing her actions. What they were doing felt very coupley, and she hoped Regina wouldn't push her away. Regina's skin tasted clean and not like the sweaty residue after sex. Emma resisted the urge to lick the expanse of her neck.

Emma grinned into the kisses when she saw Regina's eyes flutter close. Her hands came to rest on top of Emma's hands. Regina spun around in Emma's arms so they were face to face. Her hands fisted in Emma's mess of blonde curls, and she crushed their mouths together. Regina tasted sweet and minty.

Before Emma could do anything except for kiss Regina back, she was letting Emma go and pushing her hands against her collarbone. "You need to leave so I can finish getting ready."

"But—"

Regina lightly pushed Emma. "Now."

"Fine," Emma scowled.

"Make yourself useful. There's coffee grounds in the freezer and the coffeemaker's on the kitchen counter."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her tongue flicked across her bottom lip. "I think I may like that title even more than Madam Mayor."

"I'll call you whatever you want," Emma grinned.

Regina tugged at the belt loop of Emma's jeans. "Go. Before I change my mind about having a busy morning."

Emma bounded down the hallway and busied herself with the task of making coffee. Henry was still sleeping and she was eager to keep it that way so she could have some more one-on-one time with the former mayor. Regina appeared a short while later in an outfit that left Emma wanting to ditch the rest of the day.

The light grey dress was sleeveless, displaying her long, lean arms. The neckline was modest, but not prudish. A wide black belt cinched around her small waist, flowing out to slightly flaring hips. The skirt was fitted with a respectable side slit, and the bottom hemline stopped just above the knee. Emma repressed the desire to let loose a wolf-whistle. She could anticipate Regina's reaction if she'd done so—she'd narrow her eyes and chastise her for the unrefined action.

Emma handed Regina a coffee mug. "Black, right?"

She effortlessly slipped into black heels without having to bend over. "Yes. Thank you."

Henry stumbled into the kitchen, sleepy and rubbing at his eyes. His brown hair stuck up in the back, matted from sleep. "Morning, moms."

At the morning greeting, Emma felt her heart seize. They should be doing this. This should be their life. But she bit her tongue and rummaged for cereal instead.

* * *

They spent the rest of the day together, playing tourist again. This time it was Ellis Island and the State of Liberty, followed by a trip to the top of Rockefeller Center. Since neither Regina nor Emma was from this world, none one had relatives they could look up at the immigration center, but it had been fun nonetheless.

Emma had continued to sneak glances at Regina throughout their day together, but beyond a few shared locked stares, Regina had remained focused on Henry. When she was with Henry were some of the only times Emma had seen the former mayor genuinely happy. Her laugh and broad smile were like a drug, and she knew she'd become addicted if given the chance. But there was no threat of that ever happening. Regina was staying and Emma was leaving.

They'd gone out for ice cream after dinner and came back to watch a movie at Regina's. A few times Emma had lost herself in the moment, forgetting that this wasn't her life and that she and Henry would be going back to Storybrooke in the morning. It was so easy to play the part of happy family with everyone cuddled together on the couch while Regina scoffed at the big budget explosion-filled movie Henry and Emma had insisted she see.

Despite the explosions on the TV, Henry had fallen asleep on the couch again. With some gentle nudging, Regina had been able to usher him to his bedroom while Emma remained on the couch, stomach twisting in knots over how the rest of the night would go without Henry there.

"I think I'll go to bed as well," Regina announced when she returned from seeing Henry off to his room.

"Oh." Emma couldn't contain her disappointment. "I thought maybe you and I could hang out some more. Maybe have some wine?"

"Emma. Please." Regina's rigid carriage drooped at the invitation. "Let's not do this."

The blonde dropped her gaze to the rough fabric of the rental couch, and she fiddled with an errant thread. "Do what?"

"Pretend that you and I are friends."

Emma's pale eyebrows quirked. "We're not?"

Regina crossed her arms across her chest. "We share a son; that doesn't make us friends."

Emma scrambled from the couch to stand toe-to-toe with Regina. She couldn't help it. Regina's words struck through her like lightning. "We're not friends. We're _more_ than friends, Regina. And the moment you acknowledge that is the moment you'll start letting yourself be happy."

"What makes you suddenly an expert on my happiness, Miss Swan?" Regina scoffed.

Emma chewed on the inside of her cheek. She felt like this morning in the bathroom; she knew she should keep her emotions and thoughts to herself, but she couldn't help it. She'd kept them bottled up for too long and the weight of it was taking its toll. "I'm starting to think the reason you've never had your happy ending, Regina, is because you won't let yourself be happy."

"I think you should spend the night on the couch, Miss Swan."

"See?" Emma said, her voice pitching up in nearly a shriek. "Now I know you're a masochist."

Regina turned on her heel. "Good night, Miss Swan," she tossed over her shoulder. "I don't have the patience for this conversation."

Emma followed closely behind despite knowing Regina was trying to run away and avoid her. Emma knew that's what Regina was doing because she herself was an expert at running away and avoiding her problems. But with Henry's help and the aid of others in Storybrooke whom she'd come to care for, she was getting better.

"Regina," she muttered quietly, only too aware that their son slept just behind the closed door of the guest bedroom, "you have to stop doing this."

Regina continued to ignore the other woman and retreated to her bedroom. Emma continued to give chase and when she entered Regina's bedroom, she closed the door, shutting them inside.

"What is it that you suggest I do instead, Miss Swan?" Regina clipped.

"Well for one, you could stop calling me Miss Swan or Sheriff," Emma grumbled. "We've had sex—lots and lots of sex—and yet you continue to talk to me like we're only acquaintances."

Regina's cheeks hollowed as she considered the request. "I suppose I could do that, _Em-ma_ ," she emphasized the final word. "What else?"

"Stop running away," Emma hissed.

Regina opened her mouth to reflexively deny the other woman's accusation, but Emma cut her off.

"This plan of yours isn't going to work; it's about as well thought out as your damn Curse." She continued to talk at a rapid pace, knowing it was just a matter of time before Regina interrupted her. "You and Henry belong together. Even if I'm around now, that doesn't mean you stopped being his mom. And you can't be his mom in the way you both need if he's in Storybrooke and you're in New York. Your happy ending—regardless if I think it includes me, too—completely revolves around Henry."

"You think you're part of my happy ending?" Regina's words were so quiet, Emma nearly missed them.

"I, uh, you caught that bit, huh?" Emma scratched at the back of her neck. "I…don't think I'm being big headed or presumptuous or anything…I just…" She let out a long breath. "I think we could be good together if we both stop running."

Regina sat down on the edge of the mattress, momentarily quiet as she let Emma's brave words marinate in her head. Emma waited, anxious for her response.

Finally, she spoke: "Can we sleep?" Regina's shoulders sagged. "It's been an exhausting weekend."

Emma licked at her lips. She wanted to be inside of Regina's brain since the other woman obviously wasn't ready to share her thoughts or reaction to what she'd just revealed. "Sure."

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"To bed," Emma stated dully. "On the couch."

" _Now_ who's the masochist, Miss—" Regina caught herself and shook her head. "Emma."

She pulled the covers back.

* * *

 

Emma tossed her wheeled suitcase into the trunk of the city cab. She looked once more at the towering city that pressed down on her. She'd always liked cities—Boston especially—but the tiny coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine was starting to grow on her. She'd come to appreciate the quiet and the stars you could only see far from the bright lights of the city. She didn't mind that there was only one grocery store or that Granny's was the only decent place to eat out at. She even liked running into her friends and family when she went for a walk, and it was Henry's home, so it was also hers.

"I hope you haven't forgotten anything."

Emma slammed the trunk closed and wiped her now grimy fingers on the seat of her jeans. "If I did, would you bring it back to me in Storybrooke?" She couldn't help the cheeky grin while Regina's eyes narrowed.

Emma knew Regina was fed up with her persistent prodding to come back to Storybrooke with her and Henry, but she didn't know how to stop. She wanted Regina, and the former mayor's relocation wasn't acceptable to her.

Regina hugged her son once more, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. It wouldn't be long before he would be too tall for her to do that. She touched her fingers to his hair. He would need a haircut soon. "I'll see you soon," she promised into the top of his head.

Henry squeezed her back once more before retreating to the backseat of the New York cab, leaving his two mothers outside to say their own goodbyes.

Emma rolled her heels inside of her leather boots and jammed her thumbs into the belt loop of her jeans. "So, uh, when do I get to see you again? For Henry, I mean."

Regina flicked the hair away from her forehead. "I'll have to check my calendar. But I meant what I said to Henry; I want it to be soon."

Emma's hands left her belt to capture the lapel of Regina's wool trench coat. She pulled in the other woman for a bruising kiss. But as quickly as their lips connected, Regina was pulling away.

"Miss Swan," Regina growled. She darted her eyes to the cab, worried Henry might have seen the kiss. "That is highly inappropriate."

Emma wanted to call her out that she'd reneged on her promise to refrain from calling her formal titles, but she knew she'd surprised her with the kiss—she'd let this regression go without notice. "I know. But I couldn't leave without doing something."

Regina licked at her lips and the indigent anger softened in her eyes. "I wish things were different. But they're not."

Emma nodded, defeated, and shoved her hands into the tight pockets of her jeans to give them something to do.

Regina collected herself and a peculiar smile came to her lips. It was pleasant and forced, and Emma wanted to kiss it off her painted mouth until it was replaced with something warmer and more genuine.

"Call me when you return to Storybrooke?" Regina asked. "So I know that you're both safe."

* * *

 

Regina's housewarming present was as stubborn as the woman herself. Despite Emma's ignorance of horticulture and a long weekend without water, the spider plant continued to thrive.

The dream catcher was also still hanging over Emma's headboard when she and Henry returned to their Storybrooke apartment. From her bed, Emma watched the slow rotation of the ornament above her before touching her fingers to one of the smooth ceramic beads trapped in the crisscrossed webbing. A memory—a nightmare—was still contained within the magical device. Regina had implanted it into Emma's dreams, but she'd also asked not to re-live it with her.

Emma worried her lower lip and felt her forehead crease. _Well, she's not here to re-live it with me now_ she thought to herself.

She had no idea how to extract the memory from the dream catcher, and her magic was unpredictable and unstable. If she tried to tease the dream out it could dissolve or unravel or maybe even explode. But she had to try.

She flexed her fingers and stiffened her hand over the faintly yellow glow of the dream catcher. She concentrated her energy to the tips of her fingers. Nothing happened for a long while, but all Emma had was time. She focused on the iridescent center of the dream wheel until it began to pulse with glowing energy and its center began to swirl. The center of the vortex beckoned to Emma. She felt an urge to touch her fingers to its core. The light intensified and radiated out until it swallowed Emma whole.

The ground fell away from her feet and her surroundings blurred as though she was moving too quickly to make out shapes and forms. She shut her eyes tight to dampen the motion sickness.

When she re-opened her eyes, she was no longer in her apartment.

_It's night, and she's standing in the center of the grand foyer in Regina's mansion. Everything is white and bright and clean. Graham is there, standing stiff in his leather jacket, his sheriff's badge blindingly gold._

_Her fingers curl around the door handle and she wrenches the door open. Henry is standing outside—smaller and more childlike than she remembers._

_"Henry? Oh, Henry!"_

_She's running, but it's not her legs that are moving her out of the house and onto the concrete sidewalk. And it's not her arms that are wrapping tight around her lost son. Her stomach twists and her heart soars that her son has come back. He's been found._

_"Are you okay?" She holds Henry at arm's length and the relief she previously felt now turns to despair and anger and confusion. "Where have you been? What happened?"_

_Henry's face shows none of the relief that she feels. "I found my real mom!" He runs into the mansion, leaving her behind, and she feels the familiar pang of rejection._

_It's then when she notices the woman standing only a few feet away, awkward in a hideous red leather jacket, and there's a dilapidated yellow Bug parked out front on the street. Her hair is the color of wheat on a summer's day, haphazardly soft curls tumbling down her shoulders. She wants to reach out and touch her hair, but she doesn't, because Henry is back and this woman is somehow responsible._

_There's a long, pregnant pause. She blinks a few times and shakes her head, collecting herself._

_"You're Henry's birth mother?"_

_She's looking at her own face, somehow guarded, but vulnerable at the same time, looking all the world lost and uncomfortable and sheepish. "Hi."_

And then the world is shifting again and Emma clutches at something, anything, to keep from falling over.

When she opened her eyes again she was back in her bedroom in her apartment. The dream catcher was still in her hands, but it no longer glowed with captured memories. She dropped the ornament as though it burned her fingers, and it fell uselessly to the floor.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll are awesome. Thanks for the continued reviews and kudos. It keeps me energized to update regularly :)

Regina answered the call on the second ring.

Emma didn’t bother with a hello. “I looked at the memory in the dream catcher.”

“I told you not to do that.”

“Well…I did.” She didn’t know what else to say. She hoped Regina would offer up some kind of explanation for why she’d chosen that specific memory, knowing the dream catcher would only suck it out of her head without her actually seeing it.

When it was clear Regina had no intention of explaining herself, Emma launched into her own questions. “Why give me the dream catcher at all? You could have kept implanting your memories into my head until the end of time.”

“I’ve thought about that, too.”

“And?” Emma pressed.

“I’ll let you know if I ever discover the answer,” Regina replied.

“That’s not good enough, Regina.”

“I gave you access to my memories from the Enchanted Forest to explain why I behave the way that I do. Why I proposed the dream catcher?” Regina said stiffly. “I don’t have an answer for you.”

“The memory in the dream catcher wasn’t from the Enchanted Forest.”

“I know that. It was the day you and I first met.”

“Why did you choose that memory?”

“It’s …” Emma heard Regina suck in a deep breath. “I wanted you to feel the love that I have for Henry. I don’t think I’d ever been so scared as when Henry disappeared or so relieved like when he’d returned. I wanted you to know that about me. And I think maybe I wanted you to know that I didn’t hate you then. When we first met, you were a curiosity, but you weren’t my competition.”

Emma licked her lips. She hadn’t expected Regina to reveal so much. “Oh.”

The apartment door opened and Henry popped inside. “Hey, ma,” he greeted.

Emma cupped her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “How was school?”

“Fine. The usual.” Henry bobbed his head. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the hallway that led to his room. “I’ve got a book report to start on.”

“Good work, kid,” Emma approved. “I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.” She had to give Regina credit in the parenting department; Henry had impeccable manners and he wasn’t a procrastinator, unlike herself. She hoped none of her bad habits would rub off on him.

Henry bounced off to his room and his homework and Emma returned to her phone call. “Sorry. Henry just got home from school.”

“How is he?” Regina’s voice sounded strangled whenever she talked about their son, like she was trying to shove down stubborn emotions that refused to remain dormant.

“He’s good. He misses you.”

“Has he said so?”

“Not in so many words,” Emma admitted with a small frown, “but I can tell.”

“Another of your super powers, dear?” Regina mused.

Emma chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Have you thought more about moving into the mansion?” Regina asked.

“I couldn’t do that, Regina. It’s your house.”

“But I’m not using it,” she pointed out. “And it’s the house Henry grew up in. Nothing against your apartment, but my house is infinitely nicer.”

“I don’t have a way to get into it,” Emma floundered for excuses. “And even though I’m Sheriff, I can’t just go breaking and entering houses. You’d have to come back to Storybrooke to let us in.”

"Henry has a key, Miss Swan.”

"Oh. Right. I guess he would."

"I know it might be strange, living in that house, but I only want what's best for him," Regina explained.

"And why wouldn't having you in his life fulltime be what's best?"

Regina released a long sigh. "It simplifies things. We don’t have to worry about mundane scheduling like who has Henry when, but more important, he won’t be stuck with the stigma of having the Evil Queen as his mother. Now he can just be the son of the Savior and the grandchild of Snow White and Prince Charming. It’s the way things were supposed to be."

"Things are messier with you around," Emma acknowledged, "but ‘simple’ doesn't automatically mean ‘better.’ It might just mean boring," she added as an afterthought.

"Why is this so important to you?” Regina questioned. “Why do you care so much about me coming back?"

"Because I want what's best for Henry, too. But I also want what's best for you, Regina. And I truly don't believe you could ever be happy without Henry."

"And I can't imagine why you'd concern yourself with my happiness," Regina countered. "I've done you no kindness. I tore your family apart and cursed them. I'm the reason you were in foster care."

"If I'd been a princess in the Enchanted Forest, I never would have had Henry. Maybe I would have gotten married and had a kid or two, but it wouldn't have been Henry."

Regina seemed to ignore Emma’s logic. "I've been nothing but cruel to you since your arrival in the Storybrooke."

"I'm a tough old bird,” the blonde tried to joke. “I'm sure I've had to deal with worse."

Regina made a quiet, frustrated noise. "I don't have the energy for this."

"Does that mean I've broken you and you're coming back to Storybrooke?" Emma half-joked.

"Talk to me about something else. Anything," Regina implored.

"Ok,” Emma conceded. “Why do we keep having sex?"

Regina coughed delicately. "Let me amend my previous statement. I’ll talk about almost anything."

"I'm serious, Regina."

"As am I."

“You can’t keep avoiding these conversations.”

“Of course I can,” Regina stubbornly insisted. “You’ll grow tired of me eventually.”

“I wish it were that simple. I know I _should_ be angry with you. For lots of things—the nightmares are only the tip of the iceberg.” Emma clutched the phone a little tighter. “And I am angry. But I’m angrier at our situation than at you. I’ve tried to be mad at you, Regina, but it just won’t work. I just can’t do it.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Now you sound like Archie,” Emma chuckled.

“A grasshopper with a shady past?” Emma could almost hear the smile in Regina’s tone. She wished she could see the real thing. “I’ll try not to take offense, dear.”

* * *

Emma tossed a dying vase of red roses into the garbage can. Their decaying scent had left a sickly sweet perfume in the center foyer of the Mayor’s home. _Former_ Mayor. _Former_ home.

That was going to take some serious getting used to.

She had decided to take up Regina’s offer to move into the Mifflin Street mansion on a trial basis. She’d insisted on the latter to Henry. If things didn’t work out, she still had her lease at the apartment above the barbershop, and there was always the option to move back into her parents’ loft, although living in Regina’s home was a far more attractive option than cohabitating with Snow White and her Prince.

Emma knew it was only her imagination that the pillows in the guest room smelled like Regina’s perfume. If she’d thought the spider plant and dream catcher had been onerous, being surround by Regina’s personal affects was downright maddening. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Maybe suggesting they moved into her vacant house had been Regina’s plan with the End Game of driving Emma crazy.

She didn’t know where most things were—not the frying pan to make Henry scrambled eggs, not extra wood if she wanted to build a fire in the fireplace in the den, not the whisky bottle when it all became too much.

When the electricity in the guest bathroom went out, she could have probably found the fuse box on her own—the house wasn’t that big—but it gave her a reasonable excuse to call Regina.

“What’s wrong?” Regina breathlessly demanded when she answering the phone.

“Nothing. Not really.”

“Miss Swan,” Regina said in warning, “I hope you’re not going to make this a habit.”

“I haven’t called you in _days_ , Regina.”

“I noticed that. I almost entertained the thought that you’d died,” Regina remarked. “What is it this time? Did you find more of my memories laying about?”

“Where’s your fuse box?” Emma didn’t have the patience for Regina’s attitude this morning.

“My what?”

“The fuse box. The breaker box. Whatever you call that thing that apparently trips when you try blow-drying your hair in the guest bedroom.”

“Why would you…” Regina paused. “Are you living in my house?”

Emma bristled. “You’re the one who suggested it. You said it would be in Henry’s best interest.”

“I know what I said,” Regina snapped back, meeting the bite in Emma’s tone with heat of her own. “But I never expected you to move in so fast. Are my sheets even cold yet?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t stepped foot in your bedroom.”

The door to Regina’s bedroom had been closed when she and Henry had first arrived with their suitcases, and Emma planned on keeping it that way. She could have claimed the master bedroom and its _en suite_ bathroom as her own, but she knew it would have been too weird. It was surreal enough trying to assuage her guilt and doubt about moving into Regina’s home. But she was right; it was far nicer than any apartment Emma could afford and Henry deserved the best.

“I don’t see why not, you seem perfectly fine taking over everything else in my life. Why stop now?”

“God damn it, Regina!” Emma slammed her hand on the bathroom counter. “I’m done arguing with you. I’m just done with it all. I’ll find the damn fuse box on my own.” She hung up before the other woman had the opportunity to yell at her again.

Emma left her phone in the guest bathroom while she hunted for the elusive fuse box downstairs. The electricity had gone out once before when she’d given Regina a ride back from City Hall, but she hadn’t followed the former Mayor to find out where the fuse box was hidden. Knowing Regina, there were probably secret passages and underground chambers where the elusive fuse box could be hiding.

As she hunted, she could hear the ringtone she’d picked out specifically for Regina echoing throughout the cavernous mansion. After the past few months, however, she’d considered changing the song. Zedd’s “Stay the Night” or the Big Data’s “Dangerous” immediately came to mind.

She continued to search the first floor without result. Her phone stopped ringing upstairs, but the silence didn’t last long. Regina’s landline chirped to life in the kitchen and front den; Emma didn’t need to consult the Caller ID to know who was calling the house over and over again.

“Hello,” she growled into the phone when she’d had enough of the landline’s incessant noise.

There was silence on the other line, and for a split-second, Emma worried she’d made a mistake. Maybe it hadn’t been Regina calling after all.

“You…you scared me, Miss Swan.”

Emma let out a long, deep breath. “And how did I manage something like that?”

“You hung up, and when I called back, you didn’t pick up.”

Emma couldn’t help her quiet laugh. “Because I was mad at you, Regina.” She kept the ‘duh’ part to herself, sensing the other woman wouldn’t appreciate the added comment.

“I’m sorry I was so rude,” Regina apologized in earnest. “I know I was the one who suggested you and Henry move into the mansion.”

“Then why did you get so angry?” Emma pressed. Fuse box and damp hair momentarily forgotten, she slid down to the floor to sit with her back pressed against the plaster wall.

“I guess it made my leaving Storybrooke feel more complete. Like the two of you are getting on with your lives … without me.”

Emma chewed on the inside of her cheek. _Was that what she was doing?_ “Again, Regina,” she gently started, “isn’t that what you want?”

“I don’t…I don’t know what it is that I want.” Regina’s voice wavered on the syllables. “I’m scared, Emma.” The final words were so quiet, they were almost a whisper.

Emma clutched the phone tighter. “You don’t have to be scared, Regina. Come home.”

She expected Regina’s reflexive refusal and a reminder that she would never find her Happy Ending within the confines of Storybrooke, but instead she was met with more silence.

“Regina? Are you still there?”

“Yes, Emma,” the voice on the line finally responded. “I’m here.”

+++  
TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone’s support through my first stab at writing Swan Queen. I could probably draw out this story for many more chapters, but I want to wrap it up so I can focus on other SQ projects dancing around in my head. Look for more from me in this ‘verse! – Eliza

“ _Here_?” Emma’s voice strangled out. “As in Storybrooke _here_?” The other end of the phone was silent. “Regina? Are you in Storybrooke?”

The phone call ended with a barely audible click.

Emma stared at the landline phone incredulously. Had Regina just hung up on her?

She retrieved her cell phone from the upstairs guest bedroom and called Regina’s number back, but the call rang unanswered until her voicemail picked up. Emma hung up and tried again, but this time her call was sent directly to a recorded message.

Her thumbs flew across the text keyboard and she sent a flurry of text messages, each imploring Regina to answer her phone. She could feel the cold, clammy sweat in the small of her back as seconds passed, feeling more like hours, without a response. She called another half a dozen times, but Regina still refused to answer. By the time Emma gave up, she was vibrating with anger.

A single text blinked onto her cell phone screen: _I’m having a hard time moving on._

Emma’s response came without thought: _Then don’t._

* * *

It had been a long day as sheriff of the tiny coastal town, and her conversation with Regina that morning had left her frustrated, melancholy, and without power in the guest bathroom.

The people of Storybrooke were still having a hard time juggling their dual personalities, and glimmers of how conflict had been dealt with in the Enchanted Forest was starting to crack through. She’d spent the day dealing with domestic disturbances and stopping someone who called himself B.B. Loup from demolishing the homes of three brothers.

On top of that, Mary Margaret and David were pressuring her more about helping them find a way back to the Enchanted Forest. Back home, they kept saying.

Mary Margaret had decided that their inaugural Wednesday Family Dinner take place that night at Granny’s. Emma had tried to put on a happy face, but conversation had felt forced and uncomfortable. Only Henry appeared at ease with the situation, but he’d always been able to adapt. It would take the three adults a little longer to figure out what their roles should be in each other’s lives.

Henry, David, and Mary Margaret sat in a booth, finishing their apple pie, while Emma settled their bill at the front counter with Ruby.

“You look like you need something a little stronger than pie,” Ruby noted with a wide, painted grin.

Emma pushed out a long breath. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’re looking a little rough around the edges, Sheriff Swan.”

Emma self-consciously touched her hair, which felt even more wild and chaotic than usual. “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

“Nothing a little alcohol can’t fix, I bet.” Ruby reached beneath the counter and grabbed a bottle filled with an amber liquid. She poured Emma a glass and shoved it in her direction. “On the house.”

Emma grimaced as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat and burned all the way down. “Thanks for the drink, Ruby.”

She was about to collect Henry from her parents and call it a night when she saw a hand slide a slip of paper across the diner counter and stop near her elbow. Emma looked up from the piece of paper and met brown eyes. The woman had dark, close-cropped hair that reminded her of Mary Margaret. Emma didn’t know who she was, but she looked at Emma like she should.

“I’m supposed to give you this,” the woman said.

“Getting numbers and you don’t even have to try,” Ruby smirked from across the counter. “Looks like your day just got better.”

Emma opened up the slight slip of paper. There were numbers on the paper, but it wasn’t a phone number. It was a bill.

“She said you’d know what it was about.” The stranger lingered a moment longer.

“Where is she?” Emma demanded. She licked feverishly at lips that had suddenly gone dry.

The messenger nodded in the direction of the side entrance. “Out in the beer garden.”

Emma pushed open the heavy side door and was met with a blast of cool night air. A woman sat by herself on the patio, looking every bit as dangerous and untouchable as Emma knew her to be. Small tea light votives lit up the empty tables and a string of white twinkle lights hung from a pergola, illuminating the dark night sky like tiny stars. The evening was silent save for a random car that drove down Main Street.

It took no more than three strides of Emma’s long legs to cross the beer garden and reach the seated woman. Emma shook the piece of paper in her face. “What is this about?”

Regina took a careful sip from the funnel shaped glass. It looked like an apple martini from the slight green tint of the mixture. “I thought that much was obvious, Miss Swan.”

“A dry cleaning bill? _Really,_ Regina?”

Regina’s tongue flicked out and touched the small scar at the top of her lip. It was an involuntary movement, but Emma couldn’t help being drawn to her one visible flaw.

"Emma," Regina gently started. Emma hated the way her traitor knees buckled when Regina said her given name. "I know you’re still angry with me—”

"Anger is the least complicated thing I feel for you," Emma cut in. Anger was easy; she could be mad. She knew how to handle that emotion. It was everything else in combination that had her twisted in knots.

Regina frowned and cast her gaze to the table top. Emma could tell that the sharpness of her tone had injured the other woman, and she hated the resulting guilt. How could she still be so attracted and so invested in Regina's well being after everything that they’d been through? She must truly be a masochist.

Emma toyed with the thin slip of paper that was Regina’s dry cleaning receipt. “Is this a coincidence? Or have you been carrying this bill around with you on the off-chance that we’d bump into each other?”

“Your mother told me you’d be here tonight.”

“My mother?” Emma echoed.

Regina ran an elegant finger around the top of her drink. “I called to let her know I was back in town and that wanted to see you, so she arranged the family dinner tonight at Granny’s.”

“Does she know—“

“No,” Regina cut her off, anticipating the question about their recent intimacy. “She didn’t ask questions. She probably assumed I wanted to talk about Henry.”

Emma rolled her ankles in her knee-high leather boots. “Why go to all this trouble? You knew where to find me. I’m living in _your_ house after all.”

“I wanted to talk to you in public.” Regina inclined her head. “When it’s just the two of us in private, we don’t ever seem to really talk.”

Emma released a giant, heaving sigh. “So you’re here,” she said, “and you want to talk.” She sat down in the vacant chair opposite Regina. “So let’s talk. Is this a visit? Or are you back? For good?”

“My departure was too hasty,” Regina admitted, still not looking up from the drink in front of her. “When I was in New York, I realized I still had loose ends to take care of in Storybrooke.”

Emma shook her head. “That’s not an answer.” She was fed up with these vague responses and half-assed answers, but she tried to keep her frustration contained.

“I know,” Regina acknowledged. “But I’m not sure how to answer your question.”  
She finally looked up from her drink and leveled Emma with a steady gaze. “It all depends on the loose ends.”

Regina licked her full lower lip and Emma found her eyes drawn to the movement. Regina had been right. If they wanted to talk, they definitely needed to do so in a public setting. It had been less than a week, but that was already too long not to feel Regina’s perfect mouth pressed against hers.

“Loose ends?” Emma tried to shove down her more primal urges. “Like what?”

“Like you.” Regina pressed her palms flat against the patio table. “I wondered if you might like to go on a date with me, Sheriff.”

“I thought you didn’t _date_ ,” Emma reflexively argued. She knew she was being an idiot. Why couldn’t she just say yes?

Regina took another sip of her beverage, appearing unaffected by the stubborn resilience. She carefully set her drink down on the round table. “Let’s just say that I’ve found a reason to rethink how I go about my life.” She licked again at her lower lip. “You rescued me from a lot more than the rain that night, Savior. I only think it’s fair that I return the favor.”

“And what exactly do I need saving from?” Emma stubbornly countered.

“Yourself. Obviously.”

Obviously.

Emma hated how collected Regina appeared when her own emotions were so frazzled and unsure. It wasn’t fair.

Regina took a deep breath. “I thought that getting away from Storybrooke would give me some perspective. And, it did, in a way. Casting my curse on the Enchanted Forest didn’t change my circumstances. It only changed my surroundings. And I thought that if I wasn’t surrounded by my past anymore, that I would finally have a chance at a future. But when I was away, I realized something else.”

Emma swallowed hard at the lump that had formed in her throat. She found herself hanging on every word tumbling from Regina’s lipsticked mouth. “What?”

Regina slowly licked her lips, as though considering her next words. “I’m broken, Emma—damaged goods. And I realized that the only time I really feel put back together is when I’m around you.”

Emma released a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Is it wrong that all I want to do right now is kiss you?” she blurted without filter. “I know I should be mad at you for leaving and for messing with my dreams and everything else you did when you were the Evil Queen, and I still am mad,” she verbally acknowledged, “but why does it feels like everything will be better if I can just kiss you?”

Regina quirked an eyebrow. “Do you want to test out your theory?”

“More than you know.” So much for maintaining a poker face; she was all in.

Regina carefully stood from the table, leaving her drink behind. She held out a hand to the seated blonde who cautiously took it and allowed herself to be gently tugged from her chair. Now standing, Emma took a step backwards as she found Regina suddenly in her personable bubble. The dark-haired woman slid her palms up Emma’s upper torso until her arms were around Emma’s neck, forearms resting lightly on her shoulders.

Emma’s hands came to rest on the other woman’s hips like they’d been doing this all of their lives. Regina’s eyes bore into her own. “Then what are you waiting for, Sheriff?” the dark-haired woman challenged.

Emma cast a furtive glance towards Granny’s to see if anyone was looking. They were. She recognized nearly a dozen of the diners. Noses were pressed against the windows of the restaurant: gawking, gaping, wide eyed, and slack jawed. But Regina didn’t seem to care.

Emma sucked in a deep breath and returned her attention to Regina. There would be time to worry about the repercussions of a relationship with the former Evil Queen and Mayor later. Right now she had a gorgeous woman to properly kiss.

And a first date to plan.

++++

FIN


End file.
